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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906335">Cardigan</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16'>tricia_16</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bisexual Disaster Dean Winchester, Clumsy Castiel (Supernatural), Dating, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Loner Castiel (Supernatural), Loss of Virginity, M/M, No Angst, Oral Sex, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), post-covid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Milton has always been a loner. He's perfectly content spending his days working at Milton's Antique Toy Store and his nights reading and watching TV, mostly because he's never known anything different.</p><p>Enter Dean Winchester: former high school football captain, all-around golden boy... and apparently, Castiel's long-time admirer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Is it just me, or does it feel like <i>forever</i> since I was in this little "notes" box talking about how excited I am about a new fic? </p><p>HELLO, MY WONDERFUL READERS! Me and <a href="https://twitter.com/bookbag09">Brianna</a> are so happy to be back and working on something new for you.</p><p>If you’re here for some smoking hot smut — this is not the story for you. There’s only one explicit chapter in this one. However, this is a feel-good story that's going to give you butterflies and make you laugh out loud, and I can't think of anything better to share with you in the dead of winter.</p><p>Get cozy, my friends. It's good things only from here on out. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  

<i>🎶 And when I felt like I was an old cardigan</i><br/>
<i>Under someone's bed<br/>
</i>
<i>You put me on and said I was your favorite 🎶</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel is hunched over the counter with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He’s applying the final coat of paint on an elephant’s red saddle with a steady hand when the jingle of the bell signals a customer. He straightens up with a wince at the ever-present pain in his lower back, sets the toy down carefully to dry, and turns towards the sound of a customer’s approaching footsteps. </p><p>“Oh. Hi.”</p><p>Those two words on their own seldom have had the kind of effect they’re having on Castiel now, but they seem particularly riveting delivered by the man in front of him. He’s stunning. He has a perfectly symmetrical face, bright eyes, long lashes, and lips so full they’re almost lewd. His hair is cropped short on the sides with slightly more length on top, and his jaw is strong and covered in stubble.</p><p>“Hello. How can I help you?” Castiel asks. His words come after a pause that’s slightly longer than socially acceptable, but it’s not as if the other man has stopped staring, either. They’re just... staring at each other. Castiel’s face feels distinctly warm after the realization, but he still can’t tear his eyes away. Thankfully, the other man seems to come back to himself after an awkward clearing of his throat breaks the spell.</p><p>“Sorry, I was expecting someone else,” the man explains. “Not, uh —  You know. You.”</p><p>“I’m the only one who works here at the moment. Are you sure you have the right store?”</p><p>The man’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, and once again, it feels like there’s several long moments where neither of them say anything. Then all at once, the man huffs a quiet laugh, and Castiel feels like the man transforms in front of his very eyes. Those bright eyes are lit up with mirth as if Castiel managed to make a joke without saying anything at all, and he gets a flash of straight, white teeth behind a boyish smile that makes this stranger appear even more attractive than he was at first glance. </p><p>“Funny. You had me there for a sec,” he chuckles. “I’m Dean.”</p><p>“Pleased to meet you, Dean,” Castiel says automatically. He reaches across the counter to offer his hand, and as Dean’s smile falters briefly, he’s reminded suddenly that this is 2022 and while shaking hands with strangers is no longer considered dangerous, it’s also not very wise. “Forgive me, I was distracted and wasn’t thinking properly.”</p><p>Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, but his smile stays firmly in place. “Distracted, huh?”</p><p>“Your face is perfectly symmetrical.”</p><p>Once again, he’s blessed with the deep, rich sound of Dean’s laugh. “Just when I thought I heard it all.”</p><p>He isn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he falls back on his manners. “My name is Castiel Milton.”</p><p>“Milton’s Antique Toys. Guess I found the right man after all.”</p><p>“I’m the only one who works here,” Castiel tells him a second time.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean says dryly. “Got that.”</p><p>This might be the most painful conversation he’s had in his life, and he’s sure he’s had more than his fair share. Trying to get back on even footing, he tries something that’s been working out for him rather well over the years. “How can I help you?” </p><p>“I’m looking for antique diecast cars. Well, one in particular, actually.”</p><p>Finally, something he’s familiar with! “You’ve come to the right place.” Wait. Has he already said that? Nervously, he pushes his glasses up more securely on his nose. “Right this way.”</p><p>He leads Dean a few aisles away, closer to the front of the store. Children who come in with their parents are always drawn to them, so because they’re an easy sell, he makes sure to keep them in the open. Most of them aren’t worth more than ten dollars, so Castiel has a little basket of them that he gestures to now. </p><p>“Here we are.”</p><p>Dean’s knees crack as he crouches down, and he rifles through the basket quickly at first, but then more slowly as he seems to realize what he’s looking for isn’t there. “These are cool,” Dean says. Castiel gets the impression that Dean’s entirely genuine, even if he is disappointed at the moment. “But I guess I was looking for something more specific.”<br/>
<br/>
“What exactly did you have in mind?”</p><p>Dean’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he straightens back up. “A 1967 Impala. Black.”</p><p>“That is specific,” Castiel agrees. “I apologize, but I don’t have one at the moment.”</p><p>“Could you get one?” Dean wonders.</p><p>Castiel hesitates. He’s never offered before, but it’s not as if it’s completely out of the question. He has contacts in the business now, people he could ask to keep an eye out for him, and not nearly enough work to keep his days full. </p><p>“I could try.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>Castiel nods. “I can’t guarantee anything of course, but I have some contacts. I could ask around.”</p><p>“You don’t know how much I’d appreciate it, man,” Dean says, sounding so appreciative that he wonders if Dean can hear himself at all. “Do you want my n—” Dean’s hand hits the back of his neck, rubbing fretfully before he continues. “I mean, how does this work? S-should I give you, uh, leave my number or something?”</p><p>Dean seems nervous, and that triggers a sense of panic inside of Castiel. If Dean’s nervous, this must be incredibly important to him, and Castiel isn’t sure if he’ll be able to help. “You understand there’s a chance I may not be able to find this for you?”</p><p>“I — yeah,” Dean answers. “I know. Sorry. Was I — I guess I’ve never done this before so I don’t know how this works. No pressure or anything. Sorry.”</p><p>“No apologies necessary,” Castiel says, unsure why he’s so apologetic in the first place. “Let’s go back to the front so I can take down your contact information.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay. Good. Awesome. Thanks.”</p><p>Castiel walks around the counter and grabs a pen. He writes Dean: 1967 Impala. Black. on a piece of paper with today’s date up in the corner, then looks up at Dean. “Last name?”</p><p>Dean blinks at him, ducks his head for a moment, then lifts it again. Blushing furiously. “You really don’t know who I am?”</p><p>Castiel narrows his eyes to look at him more closely than he has so far. He reconfirms what he already knew, that Dean has one of the most aesthetically pleasing faces he’s ever seen, then says, “No. I’m sorry. Have we met?”</p><p>“We went to the same high school. I’m Dean Winchester.” The name doesn’t ring a bell, and his face must show it, because Dean continues. “Captain of the football team?”</p><p>Castiel smiles sheepishly. “I guess that explains it. I didn’t pay much attention to sports in high school.” Or ever.</p><p>“We had classes together every year, Cas. I know you paid attention there because I was in your fourth period math class the semester we graduated, and Chemistry the semester before.”</p><p>Because <em> he did </em> have math class fourth period the year he graduated, he squints his eyes and looks at Dean once more, trying to picture what this man would have looked like as a boy. His imagination has never been his strong suit, and it doesn’t help him now, either. “I’m sorry. Math must have been a very full class that semester.”</p><p>“I sat right behind you,” Dean says.</p><p>“Which explains why I never got a good look at you,” Castiel replies, tongue in cheek. </p><p>“Come on,” Dean scoffs. “You <em> really </em> don’t remember me? The guy sitting behind you in a jersey on Friday afternoons before the big game?”</p><p>Castiel shakes his head gently. “I’m sorry, Dean. If it’s any consolation, it sounds like you led a much more exciting life at that age than I did.”</p><p>“So I was right the whole time. Didn’t even know I existed.”</p><p>Dean is looking at the ceiling now and seems to be muttering more to himself than Castiel, but even so, Castiel confirms that with a nod of his head before he asks him for his phone number and email address. After he notes them both down, he questions, “What’s your preferred method of contact?”</p><p>“I don’t know, either’s fine. If there’s a diecast car emergency or something, calling will probably be faster.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind on the off chance that happens,” Castiel tells him. “Give me a few days, and I’ll let you know what I find.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“No promises,” Castiel reminds him.</p><p>“No, I get it. Thanks. I’m, uh, weirdly excited.” He walks to the door with a slight bounce that makes his bow legs appear more pronounced, then turns to wave goodbye as he opens it. “See ya, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t waste any time attempting to locate the Impala Dean is looking for. He searches websites he’s familiar with without any luck, then sends out emails to a few of his contacts, and waits. He hasn’t gotten any further than that by the next day, which is why he’s surprised that the customer walking into the store today is Dean Winchester again.</p><p>“Hello, Dean,” he greets him.</p><p>“Hey,” Dean replies, striding right up to the counter with a book tucked under his arm. “Came to see how the Impala search was going. Any leads?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, no. I’m still waiting for responses from a few of my contacts, though, so it’s not completely hopeless yet.” Then, making sure he didn’t have his wires crossed, he asks, “I did tell you I would be in touch when I found something, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, you did,” Dean responds. “I live just across the street, though, so I thought I’d swing by and see. Still no pressure or anything,” he adds hastily.</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean says, seeming embarrassed again. “I, uh, also wanted to show you this.”</p><p>Dean places the book on the counter, and Castiel realizes now that it’s a high school yearbook. From his high school, the year he graduated. </p><p>He looks up at Dean over the rims of his glasses, which is when he realizes he still has them on, so he tugs them free to let them hang around his neck.</p><p>Dean tries to hide a laugh, but Castiel catches it. “What?”</p><p>Dean shakes his head, smiling. “It’s nothing. I’ve just, uh, never seen a guy under seventy with one of those glasses necklace thingies.”</p><p>Castiel glances down at it. “I lose them too frequently for me to be productive if I don’t use this. It’s practical.”</p><p>“And the suspenders?” Dean questions.</p><p>Castiel narrows his eyes as he lifts them to Dean’s. “What’s wrong with suspenders?”</p><p>“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Dean says emphatically, giving him a quick once-over. “It’s a look, Cas. Trust me. You’ve got the fashionable nerd thing down to a freakin’ science.”</p><p>“Fashionable nerd?” Castiel repeats.</p><p>Dean nods, letting his gaze travel Castiel’s body much more slowly this time. “Messy hair, thick-rimmed glasses, plaid shirt, cardigan, tie, suspenders, and skinny khakis. I can’t see your feet, but I bet you’re wearing sneakers, too.”</p><p>He is in fact wearing sneakers, but he doesn’t know what that has to do with anything. “You’re also wearing a plaid shirt,” he points out.</p><p>“Yeah, but mine’s not painted on and tucked into my pants,” Dean replies. Dean’s right. His plaid shirt is open and hanging freely with a plain black t-shirt underneath. He looks ruggedly handsome in it as opposed to Castiel’s “nerd” look. “And your tie’s on backwards, by the way.”</p><p>Castiel glances down again and confirms that Dean’s words are true. His face feels warmer than usual now that his ineptitude has been pointed out, but he tries to ignore it and hopes that Dean hasn’t noticed that, too. “Thank you.” His fingers move to it automatically, but Dean stops him with a sharp tone of voice.</p><p>“Don’t fix it.” Castiel frowns again, and Dean continues with a more normal tone. “It really works for you with the whole messy-haired thing. You look good.”</p><p>There’s no way Dean isn’t going to miss how pink his cheeks are now. </p><p>“Thank you,” he says again. </p><p>“Anyway.” Dean reaches out to open up the yearbook. “Thought I could show you that we really did have class together. See if it jogs your memory at all.”</p><p>Castiel has never been very good at reading people, but it seems pretty clear that Dean is determined to make sure Castiel remembers him from when they were kids, so he goes along with it and looks down while Dean flips through the pages in front of him. One of them is a full-color photo of a football game that Dean goes right past, but curiosity is enough to have him reaching out to put his hand on the page. Dean stops, Castiel turns the book towards him, and looks down at the photo.</p><p>The caption says, “Westmount Wildcats, led by captain Dean Winchester, win against the Ferris Lynx.” His eyes scan the photo, trying to see which teenage boy wearing football gear looks most like Dean. They all look the same to him, but thankfully, the big 67 on the back points him in the right direction. As he continues to look, he realizes the bow legs would have been a give away if the number wasn’t.</p><p>“This is you?” he asks anyway.</p><p>“That’s me,” Dean confirms.</p><p>Dean has the football in his hand, his arm pulled back like he’s about to throw it, and the lights from the stadium are glowing bright behind him. He has a look of determination and concentration on his face, which is streaked with dirt and shiny with sweat. “I’m sure you can guess I don’t know much about sports, but you certainly look like you know what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Our team went to state that year,” Dean says wistfully. Their eyes meet when Dean looks up from the book, and now that they’re so close together with only the counter between them, he notices what a beautiful and unique shade of green Dean’s eyes are. “You really never caught a game? Not the whole senior year?”</p><p>“Not my entire high school career,” Castiel admits, pulling back to straighten up so they aren’t so close together. </p><p>“What’d you do when there were home games?” </p><p>“Usually came here to work, or studied in the library.”</p><p>“You wound me,” Dean says, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his mouth, and Castiel finds himself smiling back like it’s the easiest thing in the world. </p><p>Dean turns the book back around and keeps flipping through the pages until he falls on the one he was looking for. He rotates it so that Castiel can get a good look of the picture he’s pointing at. There’s somebody in a Santa hat passing out candy canes — candy grams, he remembers distantly — to Dean. And right in front of Dean is himself, just like Dean said. There’s only the side of his face visible because the photo is clearly focused on Dean and the pile of candy canes he’s being given, but it’s still clearly him. </p><p>He looks at teenage Dean, wearing his letterman jacket with his head ducked down like he’s embarrassed by the display of affection, and Castiel’s smile stays firmly in place when he lifts his eyes back to adult Dean.</p><p>“The most popular boy in school, I’m guessing?”</p><p>“Not so popular that I made an impression on you, though,” Dean replies.</p><p>“I don’t know. Now that I’m looking at this, I do have a vague recollection of somebody popular sitting behind me. I just don’t remember the details.”</p><p>“A vague recollection, huh? I’m flattered, Cas.”</p><p>“After receiving a hundred candy grams in one day, I somehow doubt that.”</p><p>Dean huffs quietly. “I was always so embarrassed.”</p><p>“You look embarrassed,” Castiel agrees.</p><p>“It was mortifying. All of these girls were clamoring for my attention when the one person I really liked didn’t like me back.”</p><p>“You poor, popular jock,” Castiel deadpans. </p><p>Thankfully, Dean laughs good-naturedly. “Yeah, guess I deserved that. You didn’t have it so bad, though, right? For one of the smart kids?”</p><p>“No.” Movies and television had led him to believe the students that cared more about their education than underage partying in high school would be bullied and made fun of, but his high school hadn’t been like that. Or at least not for him. He never had many friends, but he always had a good book to read, and he was perfectly happy to eat his lunch alone as long as nobody bothered him. And nobody ever did. “I was quite happy by myself.”</p><p>“Good,” Dean replies, looking pleased. “Guess you’re still like that, huh? Working here all alone every day.”</p><p>“I work well without supervision,” Castiel says. “And I like the quiet.”</p><p>“I’d go nuts.”</p><p>Because that seems to go along with what little Castiel knows about Dean, he’s interested to know a little more. “What do you do now?” </p><p>“I play football professionally. For the Dallas Cowboys.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Do you really?”</p><p>“No,” Dean says, huffing a bitter laugh. “I fucked up my knee before I ever played a game in college.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry. That must have been difficult for you.” Dean nods, but doesn’t confirm it in any other way. Sensing this isn’t something Dean likes to talk about, he asks, “So what do you really do?”</p><p>“I’m the Sunday night dancer down at Fanny’s.”</p><p>“The strip club?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“We prefer adult entertainment,” Dean shoots back.</p><p>Castiel squints at him, trying to suss out whether or not this is a joke. Dean’s face is completely serious, but there’s thinly veiled amusement in his eyes that makes him think Dean isn’t being entirely truthful here. “I don’t think you do.”</p><p>“What? I’m too old to be a stripper?” Dean challenges.</p><p>“Since I’m assuming you’re about to enter your thirties like me, that’s probably true.”</p><p>“You’re probably right about that,” Dean chuckles. “I’m actually a physical therapist.” Before Castiel can say anything to that, he continues, “I know, I know. I’m a walking cliche.”</p><p>“You help people. I think that’s admirable,” Castiel tells him.</p><p>“‘s just a job,” Dean says, waving away the compliment like he’s uncomfortable with it. “You’re the one who’s really living the dream. Figuring out a way to play with toys for the rest of your life. Freaking genius, man.”</p><p>Castiel has never really thought of if that way, but Dean’s not wrong. “You do have a point,” he says, his lips quirking into a sideways smile. He always thought he would do something more, something bigger or more important, but the truth is, he’s been quite happy working here.</p><p>“I haven’t been back in my hometown for years,” Dean says next. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it ‘til I got back. It’s nice to see familiar faces again.” </p><p>“I’ll do my best to remember you next time our paths cross,” Castiel jokes.</p><p>“You better.” Dean closes up the yearbook and slides it off of the counter. “I figured I’d swing by again tomorrow to see how you’re doing, if that’s okay?”</p><p>“I’ll call you if I happen to find something,” Castiel tells him. “You don’t have to stop in.”</p><p>“I know. I want to. I mean, if you don’t mind the company.”</p><p>“Oh. I... don’t, actually,” Castiel confirms. He’s surprised to find he means it, because he’s not usually a people-person, but it’s easy with Dean. “You’re easy to talk to.”</p><p>“Same, Cas.” Dean punctuates that with a wink that makes Castiel’s heart beat irregularly. He doesn’t have to wonder if Dean has any idea what kind of effect that one move has on his nervous system because Dean looks entirely too pleased with himself not to know. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t forget about me between now and then.”</p><p>“I make no promises,” he declares, and the smile he gets for that as Dean walks out of his store turns out to be the highlight of his day.</p><p>He finds himself thinking back to Dean frequently after that, and not always in relation to the Impala he’s looking for. He really tries to place Dean back in high school, wondering if Dean was genuinely as bashful as the one picture he saw in the yearbook made Dean seem, or if he was more like the stereotypical jock who thought he was king of the school. His behavior over the last few days leaves room for argument either way. It’s easy to see it actually bothers Dean that Castiel doesn’t remember him, but is that because of his overinflated ego, or because he’s baffled that Castiel doesn’t recognize the person who sat behind him in class?</p><p>Only time will tell, he guesses. Then again, he might not have the luxury to figure it out at all. There’s a chance that by this time next week, he will have found the toy Dean’s looking for and he’ll never see Dean again. It’s not as if they’ll be using each other’s services often. Castiel has no need for a physical therapist, and he’s sure once Dean finds the car he’s looking for, he won’t have a need for more antique toys.</p><p>With that thought in mind, he checks in with his contacts for any updates, and once he sees there are no current leads, he decides to post a “Looking For” ad on both his personal Facebook page and the Toy Store Facebook page. With that done, he busies himself with toy repairs until he’s ready to call it a night.</p><p>He doesn’t dress any differently for the following day, but he does dress with care. He chooses a sweater vest instead of a cardigan this time and loafer-like slip ons instead of sneakers just to spite Dean. As he looks himself over in the mirror before he heads downstairs to start his work day, he hopes what he’s always heard about blue bringing out his eyes is true with his sweater vest and that Dean might notice, even if he tells himself not to get too excited about Dean’s impending visit just in case he doesn’t show up.</p><p>Dean is a man of his word, though, like Castiel had a good feeling he would be.</p><p>It’s mid-morning this time, earlier than Dean’s come in so far, and this time around, Dean has two cups of what appears to be coffee in hand. </p><p>“Mornin’,” Dean says happily.</p><p>“I’m sorry, have we met?”</p><p>“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” Dean asks, and considering Castiel is barely holding in his laughter at his own joke, he has to agree.</p><p>“I thought you would appreciate the humor.”</p><p>“Always were the smart one,” Dean says. He hands over one of the cups to Castiel. “I brought you a coffee, and —” He holds one finger up, then plunges his hand into his jacket pocket and produces a few individual packets of sugar and cream and a wooden stir stick. “— all the fixings to make it just how you like it. Assuming you like coffee, I mean. If not, well, more for me, I guess. No such thing as too much coffee.”</p><p>Amused by Dean’s rambling, Castiel removes the lid and adds two cream and two sugar, then gives it a stir. “I do like coffee. Thank you, Dean.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. “How was the rest of your day yesterday?”</p><p>Castiel isn’t used to people asking about his day, so he’s slightly taken back by the question. “It was good,” he begins. “Nothing too exciting, but I finished the repairs I wanted to get to, and then had a quiet night at home.”</p><p>“Yeah? What kinds of things do you do to keep yourself busy at home?”</p><p>“Oh. The same things as most people, I imagine,” he says awkwardly. “Cooking, cleaning, reading, watching TV.”</p><p>“Something tells me you didn’t catch the playoff game, though,” Dean teases fondly.</p><p>“I didn’t. I got caught up in Planet Earth,” Castiel admits. If Dean thinks they’re going to be friends (and the cup of coffee has to be an offer of friendship, right?), he might as well know the real him. “It was a rerun of an old episode I’ve already seen and I still got sucked into it.”</p><p>“Can’t really blame you. The quality of the video is freaking amazing, and I’m pretty sure David Attenborough was born to narrate nature shows.” Surprise must show on Castiel’s face, because Dean scoffs. “What? Former jocks aren’t allowed to watch Planet Earth?”</p><p>“You just didn’t seem the type, but perhaps we don’t know each other well enough for me to make those kinds of assumptions. I apologize.”</p><p>“I get it all the time, believe me,” Dean says somewhat bitterly. He punctuates that admission with a long drink from his coffee, so Castiel takes the chance to taste his own. It’s smooth and hot and fixed just right, and he makes a quiet sound of satisfaction as he swallows his mouthful. Dean coughs a little, rubs the back of his neck, and turns fire engine red so quickly Castiel is still trying to piece together exactly what’s happening when Dean says, “Well, I don’t want to keep you. Let me know if you hear anything about the Impala, and either way, I’ll be back tomorrow. See ya, Cas.”</p><p>He leaves so fast Castiel doesn’t even have a chance to thank him again for the coffee before the jingle of the bell signals the door closing. That was bizarre. One second they were talking and Castiel was just about to bring up the idea of getting to know each other better, then the next thing he knows, Dean leaves him standing here all alone without a chance to say goodbye.</p><p>He’s not typically very good with people, but this is unusual even for him.</p><p>It leaves him feeling off kilter for the rest of the morning, and it isn’t until lunch time that he manages to get back on even footing thanks to a Facebook notification. He sits at the computer and opens a reply from Charlie Bradbury. Charlie has been the organizer for the Pride Parade in town for the last handful of years. He always makes sure to decorate the front of the store to celebrate Pride Month, and every year Charlie features his store on the city’s Pride page. He wasn’t expecting her to have a contact for the Impala, so he eagerly clicks on the comment she left.<br/>
<br/>
<em> @Dean Winchester you didn’t. </em></p><p>Charlie knows Dean? He supposes it makes sense since they all live in the same small city and are close in age, but he never imagined that he and Dean would have friends in common when they seem so different.</p><p>He’s barely had the thought when he gets a notification that Dean Winchester commented on the same post. </p><p>
  <em> Shut up, Charlie.  </em>
</p><p>Charlie responds so fast it makes him wonder how anybody can even type that quickly.<br/>
<br/>
<em> OMG YOU DID </em></p><p>Just then, he gets another notification that he has a message on Facebook Messenger. Curious, he clicks on the little message bubble and smiles when he sees the message is from Dean. </p><p>&lt;&lt; Ignore anything and everything Charlie tells you</p><p>&gt;&gt; Why would I do that?</p><p>&lt;&lt; Because she’s been a friend of mine since we were in third grade and her favorite thing to do is embarrass the hell out of me</p><p>&gt;&gt; Over the Impala?</p><p>&lt;&lt; Sure, let’s go with that.</p><p>&lt;&lt; Just don’t listen to her, okay?</p><p>He doesn’t get a chance to respond because his store phone rings. He types a quick <em> brb </em> into the chat bubble, then picks up the phone, “Milton’s Antique Toys, Castiel speaking.”</p><p>“Castiel! It’s Charlie Bradbury.”</p><p>Castiel can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him. “Hello, Charlie. I’ve just been warned in no uncertain terms to ignore everything you might say to me.”</p><p>“That jerk!” Charlie says lightly. Since he never said who told him to ignore her, Charlie’s reaction makes him laugh again. “I can’t believe Dean got to you first.”</p><p>“I didn’t realize you knew each other,” he says.</p><p>“I didn’t realize <em> you </em> finally learned of his existence. Poor dude’s been working up to this for more than a decade.” <em> Working up to this? </em> “I can’t believe he finally got the balls to talk to you.”</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” Castiel asks. </p><p>“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to bust the lid off of this city’s longest slow burn in existence, but you’re going to have to drag all the dirty details out of Dean.”</p><p><em> Slow burn? </em> “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Ask Dean,” Charlie says in a sing-song voice. “And keep me posted.”</p><p>“On the Impala?” </p><p>Charlie snorts. “Oh, Castiel,” she says fondly. “I can’t wait to see how this plays out. Keep me in the loop!”</p><p>The line goes dead, and Castiel stares at the phone in his hand for several long seconds before he places it back in the cradle. He turns his attention back to the computer screen and is reminded that Dean is still waiting for him to come back.</p><p>&gt;&gt; Sorry about that. Charlie called.</p><p>&lt;&lt; Son of a bitch</p><p>&lt;&lt; I’m gonna kill her</p><p>&lt;&lt; What did she say? </p><p>&gt;&gt; I planned to ignore everything she said like you advised, but I didn’t have to do that since I didn’t understand a word of what she was talking about.</p><p>&lt;&lt; 😂 Yeah, that sounds like Charlie. </p><p>&gt;&gt; She did express some disbelief over you “finally having the balls to talk to me” though</p><p>&lt;&lt; This is the part I wanted you to ignore, Cas.</p><p>&gt;&gt; Oh. I can do that if you need me to.</p><p>Three little dots appear next to Dean’s icon for several seconds, then disappear, then start again... and it goes on to do this for a solid four minutes before a message finally appears.</p><p>&lt;&lt; I just need a little bit more time</p><p>He’s guessing Dean needs time to explain what’s going on, and he has a feeling it has something to do with when they were younger based on Charlie’s comment, but he doesn’t know what to expect outside of that. He does know he’s not going to push Dean or Charlie or anybody else to give him information Dean isn’t ready to share yet, though, so although he’s positively bursting with curiosity, he lets it go.</p><p>&gt;&gt; Take all the time you need. </p><p>&lt;&lt; Figures you’d be a nice guy on top of everything else. Thanks, Cas.</p><p>&lt;&lt; I’ll let you get back to work now :)</p><p>&gt;&gt; I do have some things to do. Maybe we can talk later?<br/>
<br/>
&lt;&lt; You’ve got my number. Text me if you want to!</p><p>&gt;&gt; I will. Have a good day, Dean.</p><p>&lt;&lt; 👋</p><p>It’s almost silly how excited Castiel is to have made friends with Dean. Or at least he hopes they’re friends. He can’t imagine why else Dean would be stopping by daily, bringing him coffee, or agreeing to texting each other outside of work. He has many acquaintances or business contacts like Charlie, but he rarely has anybody to talk to after he clocks out for the day, so he’s looking forward to getting to know Dean a little better after he goes home and can concentrate on Dean instead of his business.</p><p>The rest of the day goes by slowly, but by five o’clock, he’s upstairs in the little apartment over the store and pulling off his sweater vest before he even gets into his bedroom. He switches out his work clothes for sweat pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, then sits down for a few minutes to get off his feet before he deals with cooking dinner.</p><p>He grabs his phone to check on the news, but gets distracted by a notification on Facebook. He opens the app and smiles at the notification, <em> Dean Winchester has added you as a friend. </em> He confirms the friend request and immediately clicks on Dean’s profile. Dean’s profile picture is Dean leaning on the roof of a shiny black car that Castiel recognizes as the full-sized version of the diecast car he’s been looking for. Dean looks unfairly handsome with sunglasses on and a smile on his face, and Castiel isn’t at all surprised to see the photo has over two hundred likes and other reactions on it. It seems he’s still just as popular as he was back in high school.</p><p>He continues scrolling, and the very first post he sees makes his face heat up as fast as Dean’s had when he ran out of the store that morning.</p><p><em> Hot guys in sweater vests and thick-rimmed glasses. </em> 🔥 🔥 🔥 <em> Am I right? </em></p><p>Castiel was wearing a sweater vest and thick-rimmed glasses today. And this post was made after Dean came by with coffee. Still, it could be a coincidence, right? Either way, perhaps even more exciting than the potential for Dean thinking he’s attractive is confirmation that Dean thinks men are attractive, <em> period. </em></p><p>The thought makes his lips part with excitement, and his mind spins as he thinks back over their interactions the last couple of days trying to decipher if Dean had been flirting with him and he completely missed it. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that where he’s admittedly bad with people, he would be absolutely <em> abysmal </em> when it comes to dating (which probably explains the lack of significant others in his life). He supposes Dean bringing coffee could be a romantic gesture, though it’s also something friends would do for each other. Dean complimented his appearance, too, but again, <em> you look good </em> isn’t so forward that it should automatically be considered as a flirtation. Combined with this post on Facebook, though, it has him thinking that maybe it was meant to be. </p><p>Is he interested in Dean that way? He’s certainly attracted to Dean, and he seems nice enough. Dean’s made him laugh, made him blush, and he’s definitely made him smile more in the last few days than he has in what he’s sure is a very long time. He doesn’t know Dean very well yet, but he can admit to himself here in the privacy of his small apartment that he’s at least interested enough to want to get to know him.</p><p>With that thought in mind, he goes ahead and leaves a winking emoji on Dean’s Facebook post. If Dean was alluding to him, he’s hoping it will come off as a teasing flirtation, and if he wasn’t, it should come off as an agreement to his statement (even though Castiel isn’t generally attracted to people because of what they wear).</p><p>With that done, he continues scrolling through some of Dean’s other Facebook posts. He’s pleased to see he’s anti-Trump and anti-J.K. Rowling, and laughs outright at some of the memes he’s reposted. Dean obviously has an excellent sense of humor, and as he goes a little deeper and reads the arguments Dean makes against any of the Facebook comments he gets on his political posts, he’s delighted to find that he’s as intelligent as he is funny. </p><p>Yes, if Dean is interested in him as more than friends, he would definitely be willing to see where that goes, and if he’s only looking for friendship, Castiel would certainly be on board for that as well. </p><p>Another notification pops up, and he clicks on a reply from Dean that says, “Probably should’ve deleted that before I friend requested you 🤦”</p><p>The emoji choice makes him laugh out loud, so he laugh reacts to the comment and decides to leave it at that on Facebook. A sudden burst of energy persuades him to get up and deal with dinner, and a little while later he’s enjoying a glass of red wine with his lasagna and a single slice of garlic bread. Eating alone is probably his least favorite part of living alone, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel quite as lonely tonight as it usually does. The wine goes so well with his meal and his surprisingly chipper mood that he decides to indulge in a second glass, which he carries into the living room to enjoy with another episode of Planet Earth.</p><p>This episode is focusing on birds, which is without a doubt his favorite part of the Planet Earth episodes. The different mating dances always make him laugh, and tonight is no exception. Because he did say he would text Dean later and Dean made it known that he’s seen at least some of Planet Earth himself, he opens Dean’s contact and clicks on the message icon.</p><p>He writes, <em> Hello, Dean, this is Castiel </em> and attaches a GIF of a bird mating dance. It’s only a minute later when Dean texts back.</p><p><b>DEAN:</b> Watching Planet Earth again, or is that supposed to be a pick-up line?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> I am watching Planet Earth, but... both?<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I guess my Facebook post took a lot of the guesswork out of it, huh? <br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> It certainly helped me put some pieces together. I should probably warn you just in case that traditionally, I’m very, very bad at recognizing when I’m being flirted with.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I’m a freaking disaster when it comes to flirting with guys, so you’re not alone.<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> So you were flirting?<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I was working up to it<br/>
<b>DEAN: </b> Probably<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> Well it’s only been a few days, so I’m sure you’ll get there eventually 😊<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> How come somebody else hasn’t scooped you up already?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> It probably has something to do with how I rarely see people outside of work. Generally speaking, my customers are all either married with children or decades older than me. You’re the real mystery.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I’m an open book. What do you want to know?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> Your Facebook page made it abundantly clear that you still have hundreds of admirers. Why bother with a nerd like me?<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I don’t know what to say. I guess I’ve been waiting for a hot guy in a sweater vest to come along 😉<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> I happen to have a whole closet full of sweater vests<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Now you’re just being mean. Teasing me like that. </p><p>Castiel laughs outright. It’s surprisingly easy to banter with Dean. </p><p><b>CASTIEL:</b> You know where I work if you want to see another one<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Will you wear one if I ask you out for dinner sometime?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> As long as you promise not to be deterred by the inevitability of me spilling some of my dinner on said sweater vest<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I swear to god if you’re nerdy, hot, and clumsy I’m going to spontaneously combust<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> It was nice knowing you?<br/>
<b>DEAN: 😂<br/>
</b> <b>DEAN:</b> Wait a second, how can you be Mr. Fix It with all those toys if you’re clumsy?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> I wish I had a good explanation for that, but for reasons I don’t understand, the only time my hand is steady and sure is when I’m working on a toy<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> That’s adorable.<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> It’s a necessity. I had to take over my dad’s toy store, and it would have been a disaster if I couldn’t repair the toys myself.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Had to?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> It’s the family business.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Gotcha. What if it wasn’t? What do you think you’d be doing?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> I never allowed myself to think about being anything else. Thankfully I like what I do, so it’s not as if I’m tied to something that I despise.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> You’re good at it, too.<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> Not that good. I still haven’t found you an Impala.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> That’s okay, it gives me an excuse to bug you a little longer.<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> You don’t need an excuse. I enjoy your company.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Then you won’t mind if I swing by again tomorrow?<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> I’ll even wear another sweater vest to make it worth your while<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Jesus Christ, I just choked on my own spit 😂 Warn a guy!<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> Ha! Sorry 😊<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Somehow I doubt that. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas.<br/>
<b>CASTIEL:</b> Goodnight, Dean.</p><p>As he goes through the motions of getting ready for bed a little earlier than usual, he thinks to himself that he can’t remember a time he looked forward to a work day more.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Castiel dresses as promised the next morning in a sweater vest, black this time, with a blue and black plaid shirt underneath. He pairs it with jeans today and some black canvas shoes, and he tries not to think too much about whether Dean will like the way he looks. He dressed like this before Dean came along anyway, so it’s not as if he’s changing who he is for Dean or anything. He needs to stop overthinking it.</p><p>His day gets off to a busy start because of an email he received with a lead on an Impala for Dean. He spends his morning sending emails, looking at pictures, and eventually, making phone calls. By the time Dean comes in late that afternoon, he’s almost buzzing with excited energy.</p><p>Dean, on the other hand, looks flushed and sweaty before he even gets out a nervous-sounding, “Hey, Cas.”</p><p>“Hello, Dean. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean says quietly. “Sorry. Took a little longer to get here than I planned.”</p><p>Considering Dean said he lives across the street, that’s a little confusing. “Is everything okay?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Dean nods. “‘m fine. How’s, uh, your day going so far?”</p><p>“Very good, which is why I was so excited to see you walk in here today. Well,” he corrects, “part of the reason.”</p><p>Dean seems to perk up a little bit at that. “Did you find something?”</p><p>“I did, but it’s not exactly what you asked for.”</p><p>“Oh. Thanks, Cas. That’s really great, but the thing is... it <em> has </em> to be that make and model.”</p><p>“No, I know that. It’s just that the one I found is red.”</p><p>“Red?” Dean repeats. “A red ‘67 Chevy Impala?”</p><p>“Yes. I wondered if you would find it authentic enough if I painted it black?”</p><p>Dean blinks, obviously set back by the question. “I mean, I never really thought about it, but as long as you make it the right black, I don’t see why not?”</p><p>Castiel breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you said that because I already had it shipped here. They overnighted it so it will be here tomorrow.”</p><p>“No shit? Really? For real?”</p><p>“Yes, really.” Dean beams, and Castiel thinks he looks genuinely happy for the first time since he came in here today. “I was hoping you could lead me in the right direction when it comes to paint.”</p><p>“I have a little bottle I use on my Impala for when I have to do touch-ups, will that work?”</p><p>He’s never tried to paint with car paint before, but he can try. “If nothing else, I should be able to match the color.”</p><p>“Awesome. This actually works out better than I thought, because now I’ll have a one-of-a-kind model, hand painted by Castiel Milton himself.”</p><p>Castiel chuckles quietly. “You say that like it’s some kind of an honor.”</p><p>“Maybe for me it is,” Dean replies.</p><p>That’s ridiculous, but he’s not about to say as much. Especially now that Dean’s leaning on the counter and smiling up at him. </p><p>“You seem much more relaxed now than you were when you first walked in.”</p><p>Immediately, Dean drops his eyes and his ears turn red. “Thanks for calling me out, Cas. Really appreciate it.”</p><p>Castiel winces before Dean can look up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I only said that as a roundabout way to make sure everything’s really alright.”</p><p>Dean scoffs and rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m fine. It’s just... after last night, I guess I thought you’d expect me to walk in here and, I dunno... ask you out or something.”</p><p>“And you were nervous,” Castiel says, putting the pieces together now. <em> That’s </em> adorable. “I didn’t have any expectations, Dean. I still don’t.” He makes sure his voice is soft but not placating. He really means what he’s saying, and he wants Dean to know that. “There’s no rush on my end.”</p><p>“Thing is, Cas, there’s something... well, two somethings I have to tell you. Stuff I probably should’ve already told you, and I’m not totally sure how you’re gonna react to it, but uh. I figure the chances are if one doesn’t do you in, the other one will.”</p><p>He feels what can only be described as dread start to creep in on him. <em> Of course </em> there’s something Dean hasn’t told him yet. He should have expected it. There’s no way a man as smart, funny, and good-looking as Dean is going to come without baggage. Despite what Dean said, there had to be a reason he wasn’t already married. Unless...?</p><p>“Are you married?” he asks.</p><p>Dean’s jaw drops and he looks insulted, but only for a second. “No. No, Cas. Nothing like that.”</p><p>“Has this all been a prank then?” Castiel asks, tilting his head to the side. “Some kind of jock thing where you and your friends laugh at the nerd thinking he actually had a chance with you?”</p><p>“I’m not a dick,” Dean says plainly. “It’s not like that.”</p><p>“What is it then?”</p><p>Dean sighs heavily, but finally straightens up. “I swear I’m not a creep.”</p><p>Castiel flicks his eyes away briefly to steel himself. “Always a good start.”</p><p>“Shit,” Dean curses under his breath. </p><p>He looks incredibly nervous, really worked up, and it makes Castiel’s heart go out to him. Castiel can’t help the way his back is up in anticipation of his feelings being hurt, but even still, his strongest inclination is to try to make Dean feel better. </p><p>Because it seems like Dean could really use a friend right now, he goes with it. </p><p>“I was mostly joking. Badly, I suppose, since it didn’t land. Just... try to relax. Take a deep breath, clear your head a little.”</p><p>Dean nods shakily, inhales a long, deep breath, then blurts, “I’ve had a crush on you since high school,” all in a single exhale.</p><p>It takes a second or two for that to sink in, and even then, it doesn’t really make sense. “What?”</p><p>Dean lifts a hand and then drops it again, in a gesture that Castiel takes to mean <em> it is what it is. </em> Only then does he repeat himself, more slowly this time. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were in high school.”</p><p>“But we didn’t know each other in high school,” Castiel reminds him.</p><p>“Only because you wouldn’t give me the time of day,” Dean says. “I must’ve smiled at you in the hallways a hundred different times, even mustered up the courage to say hi a time or two, and it was like you had no idea I even existed.” Castiel doesn’t really know what to say to that, because if this is true — and he has no reason to believe it isn’t — Dean’s absolutely right. He had no idea who Dean was. “I knew you worked here on weekends and stuff when we were younger, but I didn’t realize your dad had passed while I was away for school, so when I came here for the Impala, I wasn’t expecting to see you. I wasn’t... stalking you or something.” Dean tips his head back and groans. “And now that I said that, it sounds more like I actually was stalking you than if I didn’t say it. Jesus fucking Christ. Why am I like this with guys?”</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel starts.</p><p>“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it. I can hear myself. I know I sound like a psycho so I’ll just—” He points a thumb to the door and takes several quick steps towards it before Castiel calls him back.</p><p>“Dean,” he says, louder this time. “I believe you.”</p><p>Dean stops in his tracks, rubs his palms on his jeans as if he’s drying them, then turns back around to face him, looking cautiously optimistic. “You do?”</p><p>Castiel nods. “Charlie said something about you working up to something for a decade. Is that what she was talking about?”</p><p>“Probably, yeah,” Dean replies, sounding relieved now. “She, uh, was the first person I came out to. She was the president of the Rainbow Alliance club or something back in high school. I told her that I thought I was bi and she never told a soul, even though she had dirt on the captain of the football team. So we’ve been pretty tight for a while now.”</p><p>“I didn’t even realize she went to our school,” Castiel says, trying and failing to place her as a teenager.</p><p>Dean laughs quietly. “Glad I’m not the only one you were too busy with your nose in a book to notice.”</p><p>“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t look up back then.” </p><p>For both of them. He wonders what high school would have been like with a friend like Charlie? With a boyfriend? Would he still be here, now, if he had gone out with Dean back then?</p><p>Dean waves him away. “It’s not important. It’s not like I could’ve come out back then anyway.” Castiel doesn’t understand why not right away, but then it dawns him that perhaps ten years ago, teenage boys might not have been all that receptive to a bisexual man on the football team. “I just didn’t want to ask you out before I told you. I didn’t want it to seem like I was tricking you to get you to go out with me or something.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have thought that,” Castiel assures him. “It’s...” He stops and tries to put how he’s feeling into words. “It’s a strange reality for me to accept that I was the object of anyone’s affection back then, but it’s also... well... flattering.”</p><p>“Flattering?”</p><p>“Your face is perfectly symmetrical, Dean.”</p><p>Dean’s face cracks on a smile. “That’s all it takes, huh?”</p><p>“It made me notice you, but truthfully, your personality is what made me want to get to know you better.”</p><p>Dean’s smile is so helplessly endearing now that Castiel can hardly tear his eyes away. “That’s, uh, good. Real good,” he adds. “Except there’s still the one other thing.”</p><p>Castiel nods, and when Dean still doesn’t say anything, he tries to make him less nervous. “I’m sure whatever it is isn’t as bad as you think.”</p><p>“The thing is, Cas, I’m like... super protective over the people I care about. Ask my little brother, Sam, and he’ll tell you I’ve been overprotective since the day he was born.”</p><p>“Okay,” Castiel says, carefully encouraging him to keep going.</p><p>“And I liked you. Back in high school. I liked how smart you were, how you’d get a little smile on your face when you were reading sometimes, how you’d get so into your book that you wouldn’t hear the bell ring until somebody nudged you. So I, uh... I told the other guys to leave you alone.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyebrows draw together as he tries to piece together what Dean means. “You told them to stay away from me? So I wouldn’t have any other friends?”</p><p>“No!” Dean says quickly. “No. I told them not to make fun of you or push you into lockers or do any of the other stupid shit jocks do. You barely even glanced at me but I still, I dunno, I didn’t want you to have a shitty time in school.”</p><p>“But none of the other smart kids who sat at the same lunch table got treated like that either,” Castiel says. “I never saw any bullying in school. It wasn’t just me.”</p><p>“Well, yeah. I couldn’t single you out without people getting suspicious, so I made sure everybody on the football team knew that if I heard about any bullying in school, they’d never touch the football during a game again,” Dean says with a shrug. “I never expected it to catch on outside of the football team, but it was almost like everybody else in the school followed our lead.”</p><p>That makes a weird kind of sense, but he’s still trying to wrap his head around Dean being so nervous to tell him about this. “So your big dark secret is that you’re the reason I enjoyed my own company in high school without getting beaten up for not going to parties and getting so drunk that I threw up every weekend?”</p><p>“I guess, yeah. And now I know that was probably a huge invasion of privacy and I never should’ve done that without asking you first, but it’s not like I can go back and undo it. I just wanted you to know that I, well, I guess I meddled in your business without your permission and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Cas.”</p><p>A huff of laughter escapes him, and Dean’s body language goes on the defensive almost at once. He crosses his arms over his chest, ducks his head, and seems to almost fold in on himself. </p><p>“You were so worked up, I thought you were going to tell me you were married or had an incurable disease or something,” Castiel explains, amused at the whole situation. “You have nothing to apologize for, Dean. I didn’t know you had anything to do with me enjoying high school, but I’m not mad that you did. I’m <em> glad </em> you did.”</p><p>Dean’s hands make their way to his pockets. “You are?” he asks, sounding hopeful.</p><p>“Very much. Thank you.”</p><p>Dean looks like he’s torn somewhere between pleased and embarrassed, and with his pink cheeks and the way he’s obviously trying and failing to force down a smile, Castiel’s sure he’s never seen Dean look so approachable. Combined with knowing that Dean had a crush on him so long ago, it gives him a boost of something he’s not at all familiar with. Something that feels a lot like confidence. It’s a dizzying, intoxicating feeling, and before he’s given it any matter of thought whatsoever, he does something he’s never done in his entire life.</p><p>He asks somebody out.</p><p>“Would you like to go out for dinner with me sometime?”</p><p>The smile he gets in return is nothing short of dazzling, and for a split second, his confidence wavers. How could someone like Dean, who is smart, funny, and breathtakingly attractive be interested in somebody like <em> him? </em> But before he has a chance to at least attempt to take the words back or maybe add a qualifier like <em> as friends, </em> Dean answers him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean replies. The single word comes out sounding almost as dazed as Castiel feels, all breathless and awed, and all at once, Castiel is right there with him: short of breath, pink-cheeked, and absolutely flabbergasted that Dean has agreed to go out with him. There’s a long few seconds where they take turns looking at each other and looking at the ground, both smiling but trying not to be too obvious about it, and he doesn’t know if it’s all in his head or if Dean can feel it too, but the air between them seems different, thick, charged. “Damn, I can’t believe I waited all this time and then let you beat me to the punch.”</p><p>Castiel looks down at the counter again, wiping an errant fingerprint off of the glass. “I would apologize, but I’m not really all that sorry.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Dean admits.</p><p>“I do feel a little bad that I told you there was no rush and then jumped at the first opportunity to ask you myself,” Castiel says. “I am interested in getting to know you better, but I’m open to that happening this weekend or three months from now, if that’s what works best for you. I meant it when I said there was no rush.”</p><p>“I don’t have any plans Saturday,” Dean offers up. “Heard there was a new steak house. Is it any good?”</p><p>“I’ve never been, but I know it got good reviews when it first opened.”</p><p>“Do you wanna go? On Saturday?”</p><p>Castiel nods. “I’d love to.” Then, because they both seem nervous and it seems like a good chance to try to break the ice, he asks, “Would the dress code be sweater vest appropriate?”</p><p>Dean’s tentative smile transforms as he blatantly leans over the counter to look Castiel up and down, and the sex appeal packed into the grin aimed at him now sends a bolt of arousal straight to his lower belly. “When you look as good as you do wearing it, believe me, it’s appropriate anywhere.”</p><p>Castiel’s lips quirk to the side. “What about the beach?”</p><p>“Bet the water’d be a great backdrop for those pretty eyes of yours.”</p><p>“The gym?”</p><p>“You’d be the best dressed,” Dean answers.</p><p>“How about Purgatory?”</p><p>“The gay bar?” When Castiel nods, Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “Can’t let you go in there lookin’ like that, Cas. I don’t think I could edge out the competition.”</p><p>Castiel laughs at the absurdity of the statement. “You wouldn’t <em> have </em> any competition,” he says lightly. “Nobody’s ever given me a second look.”</p><p>“Hey, if the whole town is full of dumbasses, that works out pretty damn well for me, so I’ll take it,” Dean says with a wink. “You want me to swing by tomorrow with that paint for the Impala?”</p><p>Castiel’s stomach swoops at the idea of seeing Dean again tomorrow. “That would be great.”</p><p>“You got it. I’ll see you then?”</p><p>“I’ll text you after the Impala shows up so you can see it before I paint it,” Castiel tells him.</p><p>“Awesome. See you tomorrow, Cas.”</p><p>“See you tomorrow,” Castiel echoes.</p><p>After being unable to wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day, Castiel goes to bed that night for the first time wondering if this is what it feels like to be truly happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean presses the button on the side of his phone to make sure he hasn’t missed any messages for what has to be the two hundredth time so far today, getting a whack to his shoulder for his troubles from his long-time friend, Jo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s with you today?” she asks, sounding annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Dean lies, quickly stashing his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo scoffs. Loudly. “Yuh-huh. You’ve barely even made it through a single box because you’ve been looking at your phone every two seconds like there isn’t this thing called a ringer on it to let you know when notifications come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’m afraid I won’t hear </span>
  <em>
    <span>the ringer </span>
  </em>
  <span>over the sound of your big mouth yapping non-stop since you came over,” he tosses back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head to the side and smiles a great big but terrifyingly sweet smile at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you begged my big mouth to come over and keep you company because you didn’t want to do this by yourself?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean rolls his eyes a little, mostly for show, because as much as he doesn’t want to admit he needs her help, she’s frigging right. “Okay, okay. I’ll... turn up the ringer and put my phone down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says curtly. She tucks her hair back behind her ear and digs back into the box in front of her. “How the hell did John wind up with so much shit anyway? He was too drunk to leave the house most of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell if I know,” Dean answers. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is day six of going through his dad’s shit and he feels like they’ve barely even made a dent. He can’t make heads or tails out of most of the crap in the boxes his dad stashed in the basement, but because they have found some things he knows his dad would want them to keep, he’s reluctant to toss it all without going through it first. He’s been tempted, sure. And maybe he gets a little bit more tempted every day to just ditch the lot of it, but he knows that’s impulsive and driven by how much he doesn’t want to do this in the first place more than anything else, and that’s why he asked for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John Winchester is one of many who died needlessly this year. With a Covid vaccine available to anybody who wants one, his death would have been completely avoidable if he chose a needle instead of the bottle, but even when he had to have been in excruciating pain suffering at home while he died alone, he was still too stubborn to ask for help. It’s no secret that Dean and his dad never had a great relationship thanks to John’s inability to remain sober for any substantial period of time, but even Dean’s surprised by the relief he feels knowing that his second last blood relative is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never wished death on his dad — far from it, actually — but now that he’s gone, Dean’s not exactly sorry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been carrying around the weight of knowing that it’s only a matter of time before John’s recklessness led to an innocent person’s death for years. He knew that it would probably be because of a car accident and that he would be the one to live with the guilt and pain associated with it while his dad would just keep drinking his feelings away the same way he has since Dean’s mom passed away so many years ago. So although he’s sad his dad is gone now too, he’s not sorry that he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, he’s not sorry he no longer has to keep his ringer on in the middle of the night just in case his dad is arrested (again), and he’s not sorry he won’t have to fight with his little brother, Sam, about whether or not they should invite their own dad to Christmas dinner this year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe most of all, and definitely most </span>
  <em>
    <span>selfishly</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all, he’s glad he doesn’t have to hide who he is anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad had made his thoughts on same-sex couples abundantly clear, and although Dean wishes he had the spine to tell his dad how hurtful his words have been and exactly why that is, he chose to ignore it instead. That meant being fully stuck in the closet whenever he came back to visit, and it also kept him away from having anything more than a few one-night stands with guys just so that it never had the opportunity to get serious and didn’t put him in a position where he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell his dad. So yeah, he’s probably not winning the Son Of The Year Award anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean moving back into his dead dad’s house has been easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s actually harder than he expected it to be. Looking through his dad’s shit is a reminder of the person he used to be; the dad who kept all of Dean’s football trophies, all of Dean’s team pictures from when he was a kid, and every article with Dean’s name in it that was ever printed in the local paper. He found a bunch of his mom’s stuff that his dad apparently never threw away, pictures of their family he’s never even seen before, and even old love letters the two of them sent to one another through the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve found a lot of junk, too. Garbage and broken coffee makers, obsolete technology, and dozens of charge cords for devices that no longer exist. They also found what led him to Cas’s antique toy store: his dad’s collection of diecast cars, minus one 1967 Chevy Impala. It was an impulse to walk across the street to see if he could find one at Milton's Antique Toy Store, and he meant what he said to Cas yesterday, he honestly never expected Cas to be there when he stepped in. He figured it would be Cas’s old man behind the counter the same way it was when he left for college, otherwise he never would’ve had the balls to walk through those heavy wooden doors in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dating or starting a relationship sure as hell wasn’t something he was looking for when he already has so much on his plate, but Cas turned out to be every bit as great as Dean always guessed he was after four years of careful staring during his high school years. He’s not about to turn down a first date with “the one who got away," either, <em>especially</em> not when "the one" looks good enough to eat in a god damn sweater vest. And just because they go out on a date doesn't mean they have to jump head-first into a relationship right now. He’s only got another few weeks off while he settles in here and sets up the office he’s going to move his practice to, so he’ll have to at least try to spend his time wisely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But <em>Castiel Milton,</em> he thinks in awe. As much as he’d like to </span>
  <span>keep</span>
  <span> getting to know Castiel better, he knows that’s only going to happen if he manages to grow a brain and is actually able to form enough words to make a complete sentence around the guy. There’s just something about him — always has been, if Dean's being honest with himself. Every time Dean so much as gets a glimpse of those eyes of Castiel’s, he’s a freaking goner. Any and all coherent thought he ever had goes flying from his brain, and all he can do is blush and stammer through his words like an idiot. Somehow, and he’ll literally never understand how, that had won somebody like Cas over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost jumps out of his skin when the sound of a notification coming in with the volume as loud as it gets interrupts his thoughts. He looks over at Jo quickly to see her with a hand clutched to her chest, and when he cracks a smile at the two of them freaking out over the same thing, she backhands him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a text message, though, likely from Cas, so he doesn’t retaliate in favor of getting to his phone sooner.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>SAM:</b>
  <span> How’s the house cleaning going today?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddammit, it was Sam,” he grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo snorts a laugh. “That’ll teach you to keep secrets from me about who you’re dying to hear from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he sighs. If he’s going out tomorrow with Cas, she’s going to find out anyway, so he might as well just get it out of the way now. “Castiel Milton.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel? Isn’t that the quiet kid Sam used to say you were in love with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s new information to him. “I’m sorry, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you didn’t know?” Dean just shakes his head, and she snickers. “Ohhh yeah. Me and Sam spent many a days gossiping about your dramatic, closeted ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you did not,” he scoffs. Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> he always knew Dean was into guys, but there’s no way Sam really knew. Dean was way too careful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Winchester. But let’s get back to how you had a big fat crush on Castiel when you ruled the school and now you’re freaking out about hearing from him. How did that happen?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a small town,” he replies, busying himself with the contents of the box in front of him so he doesn’t have to look at Jo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His store’s across the damn street,” he argues, shuffling papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fair. But why would you go into an antique toy store?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugs. “Maybe I go antiquing now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you go antiquing, I’ll eat my shirt.” Dean huffs a laugh at the mental image that leaves him with. “How did you meet him?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s looking for the missing car in my dad’s collection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo sits up so straight it looks like she was hit by lightning. “You went to his shop? You voluntarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>walked into</span>
  </em>
  <span> the store Castiel owns?” Dean’s about to explain he didn’t know Cas owns it, but Jo has something else in mind. “I have to call Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he says, jabbing a finger at her. “The only reason I told you is because we’re going out for dinner tomorrow and I knew you’d be even more of a pain in the ass than you’re about to be if you heard about it through the town gossip mill insteada me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re having dinner?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she exclaims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you keep repeating everything I’m saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m in shock! Am I in shock? Is this what it feels like to be in shock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shakes his head and looks away, embarrassed and exasperated by her overreaction. “Does Sam pay you to act out his lines when he can’t be here or are you really just as lame as he is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may only have one sibling by blood but two by choice,” Jo says, the same thing she’s been saying since she overheard her mom say it when she was four. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes him answer the same way he has been all this time, and the best part is, he means it just as much now as he did back then. “Whose choice was that, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both laugh quietly, and he doesn’t have to ask if they’re both thinking of their childhoods because he knows they are. He’s missed this. Missed home, missed Jo, missed all of it a lot more than he let himself think about when he didn’t want to come back because of his dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems they’re on the same wavelength even now, because that’s exactly what Jo says a minute later after she knocks their shoulders together. “I hate to admit it, Dean, but I freaking missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his arm around her, tucks her in nice and close to his side and kisses the side of her head. “I missed you too, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss Sam,” Jo says next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He misses you, too,” Dean tells her. “And Bobby and Ellen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They ask about you all the time. I uh, even heard Bobby asking mom to show him how to use Facebook a while back so he could keep better tabs on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that, I’d like to see.” He makes the joke because it sorta feels like Jo just stabbed him in the heart. Bobby Singer, the grumpy old man who loudly complains anytime he, Sam, or Jo take their phones out of their pockets when they’re under his roof, wanted to sign up so he could see how Dean was doing. He never would’ve seen that coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thankfully she just laughed in his face and then hugged him real tight, but they called you that night.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember that,” Dean says, thinking back. “They don’t usually call to shoot the shit. Scared the life out of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know they got it when you left, and why you didn’t come back often,” she says quietly. “But they’re really happy you’re moving back. We all are.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though his heart still feels partially broken, he nods. He’s here now, and he knows he’s not the only one this happy to be back. With no mortgage left on the house, Sam only an hour away instead of four, Jo, Bobby, and Ellen at his fingertips, Cas across the street and all this potential between them, moving back here is starting off as close to perfect as he could hope for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps that in mind and uses the boost it gives him to drive him through sorting some more boxes. Thankfully, having Jo there with him makes both the time and the work go by faster. They make a solid dent in the basement before they break for lunch, and probably would’ve kept going in that direction if Cas hadn’t texted around 2:00.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even care that Jo watches him like a hawk when he all but dives on it once he hears the notification. All it says is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, Dean,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but a second message comes in only a beat later with a photo of a red 1967 Impala.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check it out,” Dean says to Jo. She scoots over a little and he angles his phone out so she can see. “He’s gonna paint it black like mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it the same, other than that?” Jo questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’posed to be. Only one way to find out,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes at first, but then something flits across her face, and suddenly she’s crossing her arms, looking less than impressed. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to be out on my ass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I would never do that to you,” Dean says, pushing up to standing. “You can stay as long as you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo kicks his shin, accidentally or purposely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his bad leg. “You ass, you know that’s not what I meant!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta bring the paint over,” Dean explains. “Then he’s gonna fix it up for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jo watches him for a few seconds like she’s trying to decide something. “Fine, go.” He lights up like he wasn’t going to go anyway, and he’s hauling ass up the stairs when he hears, “But I get all the details when you come back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs even though she can’t hear him and shoves his feet into his boots while he slips into an old leather jacket. He debates leaving the laces undone just to get across the street a little faster, but with his luck, he’d trip over them and fall on his face before he so much as gets a word out. Which wouldn’t be too out of character because apparently Dean’s just as much of an embarrassment to humankind now as he was when he was a teenager when it comes to Cas. He does okay with Cas over text, but that’s because it’s looking at Cas’s face that breaks down his brain-to-mouth connection. He’s figured that much out already, so all he has to do today is not get sucked into that penetrating stare that’s somehow appealing when it should be disarming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, he doesn’t have much hope for his plan, but a guy's gotta try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s chilly today, but that has absolutely nothing to do with the jog in his step as he’s crossing the street towards Milton Antique Toy Store. It’s a little desperate on his end, but nobody’s watching him to make him worry about how he might look to be <em>this</em> eager to see Cas again. And fuck it all to hell, because as soon as he has the thought, he knows Jo is 100% on the phone with Sam as she watches him out the window. Ah well, not much he can do about that now. He’ll just claim he was cold if she says anything. She might even buy it </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> he doesn’t stand outside the entrance to Cas’s store to psych himself up before he goes in the same way he’s had to every other time. </span>
</p><p><span>With that thought in mind, he forces himself to swing the door open with no outward hesitation for the first time, and when Cas’s bright smile greets him as soon as he steps in, he’s immediately glad he took the time to tie his shoes. Cas is in full geek mode, and Dean’s close enough to tripping over </span><em><span>his</span></em> <em><span>own tongue</span></em><span> that he knows there’s no way he wouldn’t have tripped with untied laces. </span></p><p>
  <span>Cas is wearing a light brown cardigan that wouldn’t look out of place on an 85-year-old. He has a navy blue checkered shirt underneath, his hair is messed into a mouth-watering “just fucked” look that makes Dean’s dick perk up hopefully, and those thick-rimmed glasses are perched on Cas’s nose, complete with that endearing glasses rope thingy dangling behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no fucking wonder his brain can’t function in the face of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel his face grow warm just from Cas’s deep voice, and he sends a curse to his inner 13-year-old for making him blush like the bumbling idiot he‘s been trying to convince himself he isn’t since he first laid eyes on Cas. The worst part is, he knows it’s bullshit. He’s a mess with men and always has been. He just doesn't get why. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> does one smile from an attractive man make his brain turn to mush when he can wink at any woman from age 10-110 and send them into a fit of giggles?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get your shit together, Winchester. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he answers. (Not even a trace of a stutter, thank you very much.) “How’s it going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better, now that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the car are here.” How does Cas manage to string all of those words together without making an ass of himself? “How was your day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better now that I’m here,” he says, trying to lob a joke by saying the same thing Cas said. Thankfully, Cas catches it, and he gets the pleasure of watching those incredibly dry but still soft-looking lips of Cas’s twitch at the corners. “Can I see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s yours, of course you can see it.” Cas reaches beneath the counter, and then there it is. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala diecast replica. In red. It’s almost perfect. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like Baby’s evil twin,” Dean declares. He steps right up to the counter and leans his elbows on it, bringing his face level with the car on display to get a closer look. It has the same lines as his car, the same shape and feel, but it looks completely different in red. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, he decides after another minute of careful examination. “It’s a little less hot, but the red adds a streak of danger that makes me think it’d almost be worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worth what?” Cas asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheating on my car,” Dean replies. As soon as those words come out of his mouth he becomes very aware that he must sound like a fucking douchebag to the guy he’s going out with tomorrow, and he straightens up with a hand on the back of his neck. “Which is the only way I’d ever cheat, you know. On cars. Never on people. I’m totally not a cheater, just, uh, to be clear. Never cheated in my life. On a person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s the matter with him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll remember to keep my cards close to my chest just in case,” Cas says with an easy smile. Dean’s stuck wondering how one man can be so adorable and so unbearably hot at the same time when Cas starts talking again, sounding excited this time. “Did you bring it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I bring what?” Dean asks, still half-lost in his thoughts about how perfect Cas is. Again, it’s like hearing himself talk is enough to jolt his brain into working temporarily, and he winces as he realizes what an idiot he is. “The paint. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I ran over here so fast, I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s face reminds Dean of Sylvester the Cat for those three seconds in every episode when he thinks he’s caught Tweety Bird. “You ran over here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was excited... about the car.” Judging by Cas’s smile staying firmly in place, his lie came out every bit as transparent as it felt. He aims a sheepish smile in Cas’s direction and admits the truth. “And maybe I wanted to see if you were wearing a sweater vest or suspenders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only one out of two today,” Cas replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes go a little wide when he realizes that means Cas is wearing suspenders under the grandpa sweater. “What do they look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll show you, if you want.” Dean’s pretty sure his smile speaks for itself, and Cas’s fingers moving towards the top button on the cardigan almost has him drooling with anticipation. “After you get the paint.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have time to school his face into anything but a pout, which earns him an amused huff of laughter from Cas. “You’re meaner than I thought you were,” Dean admits, but he doesn’t hold a grudge as he backs out of the store. Especially not when it sounds like he’s gonna get what he wants when he comes back with the paint. “I’ll be right back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look both ways before you cross the street,” Cas calls out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That fucker went from shy and awkward to quietly smug pretty damn fast, and the truth is, Dean can’t even find it in him to hold it against Cas. Especially if what Cas said before about nobody in this town giving him a second look is true. Cas deserves to feel good about himself and Dean would be more than happy to show him all the reasons why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door of the shop closes behind him and he damn near walks right over Jo when he turns around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?” he blurts, surprise making his voice come out louder than strictly necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you might need this.” Jo holds up the bottle of touch-up paint Dean had by the front door. “You ran across the street so fast, it must’ve slipped your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What is with people looking at him like they won the lottery because of his dumb-assery today?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he replies, voice even. He knows now that Jo </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> see him jogging across the street and that he’s gonna hear about it for the rest of his life, but it doesn’t have to be right now. In order to avoid that, he plans a quick exit back into the store behind him. “I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jo says with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even have a chance to tell himself not to worry about that right now, because once he opens the door again, Cas is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking concerned. “I heard you yell. Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something about, ‘What the hell are you doing?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dean laughs, relaxing now that he knows what Cas is talking about. “My friend was at the door with the paint,” he says, holding it up to show him. “Just wasn’t expecting to see her there when I opened the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas nods his head in understanding. “I’m glad to hear that. I wasn’t sure what to do when I thought something might be wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you were coming to my defense anyway, huh?” Dean asks, warmed by the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiles a little, like he hadn’t considered that until now. His blue eyes flick up to Dean’s shyly, and he says, “I guess I was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hits him all of the sudden that this is the first time they’ve interacted without a counter between them since that first day. He never noticed before, but Cas is almost as tall as he is, and as much as he has the nerd thing going for him, his shoulders are nearly as wide as Dean’s, too. He can't tell what kind of body is hidden by the sweater, but the shoulders seem promising. Cas is only standing inches away, more up in his personal space than Dean is used to from most people, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> closer than he’s ever been to Cas. He can’t help but notice that Cas has removed his glasses, and maybe because of that, his eyes seem even more gorgeous this close up. They’re a crystal-clear, sky blue that Dean never wants to look away from, which makes it all the more jarring when they widen ever so slightly before Cas takes a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies,” Cas says, ducking his head to break eye contact. “I didn’t mean to crowd you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were rushing out to save my ass,” Dean reminds him. “We’re good.” Cas nods but still won’t lift his gaze. “One might even say there are advantages to not having a counter between us, you know,” Dean teases gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas is the one with a pink tinge to his cheeks when he finally looks up, and there’s something almost innocently eager about Cas’s expression. His already big, bright eyes are wider than usual (the nervous excitement inside of them is as plain as day), and the way Cas licks his lips the same way Dean does when he’s nervous makes something primal rise up inside of him. On one hand, he’s absolutely certain he’s never wanted to kiss somebody more than he wants to kiss Cas right now, but on the other, Cas is clearly out of his element here and he’d also like to gather him up in his arms and press a dozen kisses to the top of his head between whispered promises that Cas never needs to be scared with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your eyes are even prettier close up than I thought they were,” Dean settles on. Cas’s face is glowing with his embarrassment now, but he smiles all soft and dreamy like those few simple words are making him glow with happiness,</span>
  <span> and Dean can’t stop himself from reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers down the side of Cas’s face. Cas’s eyes go almost scary wide for a fraction of a second before his eyelids flutter closed and his pink lips part on a shaky exhale. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s gorgeous. “This okay?” Dean asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no,” Cas answers, and Dean pulls his hand away like he’s been burned, apologies already stuttering out of him. Cas’s eyes fly open and his hand catches Dean’s around the wrist before he gets a whole word out. “But only because I’m at work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Dean breathes, trying to make his heart beat regularly again. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. I enjoyed it,” Cas answers. “Let’s go take a look at the paint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath in through his nose to try to settle his nerves before he follows Cas towards the counter. Once Cas is perched on his stool on the far end of the counter, he holds his hand out in a silent request for Dean to give him the paint, which Dean does without hesitation. Cas uncaps it, takes what looks like a clean palate artists use to mix colors, and uncaps the touch-up paint. He upends it and allows a few drops to fall onto the palate. He makes a quiet sound in his throat and his eyebrows draw together, and Dean automatically jumps to worst-case-scenario in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gonna work, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s thicker than I thought it would be,” Cas replies, sounding thoughtful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah, it’s touch-up paint,” Dean reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks amused when his eyes flick to Dean’s. “I know almost as much about cars as I do about football.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wound me, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you’ve told me that before,” Cas answers, not at all ashamed if his little smile is any indication. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to use this,” Cas tells him. Dean watches when Cas slips his glasses back into place on his nose and has to swallow down the whimper that wants to rise up his throat. Never in his life has he been so ridiculously attracted to a man in glasses, and he makes a mental note for himself to explore that specific kink more later to try to figure out if it’s Cas specific or not. “But I do think I can replicate the color.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly?” Dean asks. He knows he’s going to be able to tell if it’s not the same shade as Baby, and because his dad was never shy about letting him know what was or wasn’t acceptable, he knows John never would’ve been okay with a replica car just a shade off from perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’m very good at what I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean believes him. And what’s more, he feels a thrill race down his spine at Cas’s quiet confidence. He’s used to feeling this kind of thing working with other athletes, watching how sure they are of their craft, their body, their skills. He never expected his competence kink to kick in when it comes to repainting classic toy cars, but here he is, dry-mouthed and blank-headed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Dean manages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas tilts his head. “The polite thing to do would be to at least pretend to take me at face value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. I do,” Dean says quickly. “Believe me, I do. I was just sorta, uh, caught off-guard by how sure you sounded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up fixing toys. I was mixing paint to match specific colors before I knew my phone number,” Cas explains, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can do this. It just won’t be as simple as putting a coat of paint on it and calling it a day. It will take time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Dean tries hard to make sure he doesn’t let his disappointment show. “Well, that’s okay. Not like my dad’s coming back for it now,” he jokes weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that who you’re doing this for?” Cas questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he uh. He died, actually. Not too long ago,” Dean says. His voice is a little grittier than he’d like it to be, but instead of acknowledging it, he just keeps talking. “And I found this collection of all the cars he’s owned in his lifetime in a display case or whatever, but the only one missing is the Impala. So, uh, it’s for him in a way, but it’s not like he’s gonna know that I finished it.” Saying that out loud makes it pretty clear that it isn’t for John at all, and he flushes when he realizes it. “I guess it’s for me more than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Cas says gently. “I do plenty around here purely because my dad did it that way before he died, even if it’s not the most logical way to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He doesn’t want to carry on the shit his dad put out into the world before he died, but he also doesn’t want to dive into that too deeply right now. Or ever, if that’s a choice. “Thanks, Cas.” A wide smile spreads on Cas’s face after that, which seems out of place for their current conversation. “What’re you smiling at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I guess I like when you call me Cas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pauses for a second, wondering when he even started doing that. Was it in high school that he created this little nickname in his head for the nerdy kid he had a crush on? How creepy is that? Add that to the long list of things he needs to think more about later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People usually don’t?” Dean wonders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I’ve noticed. Though to be fair, I’m not close enough to most people to have earned a nickname.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about your friends?” Dean questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a loner, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, maybe if their date tomorrow goes well, Dean can work on changing that. Cas is a nice guy, he deserves to have some friends, and Dean just so happens to know a couple of good people in this tiny town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have plenty of acquaintances,” Cas continues, like he thinks he has to explain himself. “I’m well-known in the community because of my father, and if I wanted to, I’m sure I could find people to spend time with. I just prefer to spend my time alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong with being a homebody,” Dean assures him. “I’m turning into one more and more the older I get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks him right in the face. “I’m the same age as you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean cracks a smile. “Hate to break it to you, Cas, but we’re getting old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard that once we hit thirty it’s all downhill from there,” Cas laughs. “But I refuse to believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An optimist, huh?” Dean wonders, looking at him in a new light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly,” Cas laughs. “I just refuse to believe the best of my life is behind me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s been thinking that way ever since he fucked up his knee, but he’s actually kind of glad Cas doesn’t feel the same. It’s depressing. “Well, that’s obviously not true. You still have a date with me to look forward to,” Dean says with a playful wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t remind me,” Cas groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s sure as fuck not the ego boost he was hoping for. “You changing your mind already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not at all. I’m just a little nervous, I guess. It gets worse when I think about it,” Cas explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to be nervous about. It’ll be just like this, but with a table between us instead of a counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas laughs a little, nodding his head. “I guess that can’t be too bad, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean will do everything in his power to make sure it won’t be. “I’ll be on my best behavior. In fact,” Dean says, “I’ll start now by letting you get back to work instead of hogging you all to myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can have me all to yourself tomorrow,” Cas replies, which sounds really damn good to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come pick you up,” Dean offers. “As long as you tell me where you live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I live here,” Cas tells him. When Dean’s eyes start scanning the store for a room that might lead to a bedroom, Cas continues, “There’s an apartment above the store. There’s a parking lot around the back with a door at the bottom of a stairway that leads to my apartment. That will likely be easier than trying to park on Main Street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it. I made the reservation for 5:30, so I’ll come around twenty after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds perfect. I’m nervous, but I’m looking forward to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and me both,” Dean promises him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you then.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have a very busy week coming up, so I apologize in advance because I won’t be able to respond to many comments. Thank you so much for reading and I promise I’ll try to do better next week &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dating was a terrible mistake. </p><p>How does Castiel think he’s going to sit through an entire dinner date with Dean when the very idea of it already has him unbuttoning his dress shirt to <em> literally </em> wipe away the sweat under his arms? </p><p>This can’t be normal.</p><p>If other people got this nervous before a date, he’s sure dating would cease to exist. Why would anybody put themselves through this more than once? He’s certainly not willing to subject himself to sweating through his dress shirt a second time. Not even for Dean.</p><p>Like the mere thought of his date tonight has conjured him to his front door, Castiel hears a knock that <em> has </em> to be Dean. He checks his phone and sees it’s 5:15, and while that’s only a few minutes earlier than Dean said he would be, he was counting on those minutes to button himself up and try to dab the sweat off of his forehead.</p><p>“Just a minute!” he calls out.</p><p>He wipes his face with a towel and then gives himself a final once-over in the mirror. His face is flushed, which isn’t a surprise, but his hair is another matter altogether. He must have been pushing his fingers through his hair while he was stressing out because the carefully tamed look he spent so long working to perfect is utterly ruined. He pats it down again now, but he knows all too well that once it’s like this, he’s fighting a losing battle. At least his clothes still look nice, he thinks to himself. </p><p>He’s wearing a solid black sweater vest and a heathered grey linen blazer, with a powder blue dress shirt showing just a hint of purple geometric patterns on it. Only the collar is visible because of the sweater vest, but he thinks it’s a nice pop of color that brings out his eyes — which seems to be his feature Dean likes the most — and makes the whole outfit look a little less formal. He paired it all with dark wash jeans that fit him like a glove for the same reason, and just because he thinks Dean might laugh if he notices, sneakers. </p><p>He’s already regretting the layers (again) by the time he makes it to the back door, but thankfully, there’s a gust of cold air when he opens it that feels like heaven. And Dean, of course, who clutches at his chest with one hand as soon as he sees Castiel.</p><p>“Are you <em> trying </em>to kill me?” Dean asks in lieu of hello. </p><p>Secretly, Castiel is pleased, but he feigns innocence instead. “I don’t know what you mean. I just opened the door.”</p><p>“Oh, you knew what you were doing when you put on that sweater vest,” Dean insists.</p><p>Castiel can’t quite hide his smile. “I did,” he confesses. </p><p>“It worked. You look amazing,” Dean gushes. </p><p>“I’m glad you like it. You look nice, too.”</p><p>Dean’s in a thin, maroon sweater. It has a shallow v-neck and looks very soft. He’s also wearing a leather jacket, though Castiel is sure it’s not the same one he saw Dean in yesterday. This one has zippers at chest level on both sides, is in jet black, and seems like it was tailor made to form to Dean’s body — which currently looks <em> phenomenal </em> with his broad shoulders and tiny waist.</p><p>“Thanks, Cas. These, uh, are for you.” And then Dean pulls his hand out from behind his back and produces a bouquet of flowers. Castiel never expected flowers, but even if he had, he never would have thought they’d look like this. The flowers themselves are all in shades of whites and greens, filled out with plenty of brown leaves and some acorn look-alikes on stems, and although he wouldn't have minded some brighter colors, these simple, more masculine flowers are <em> gorgeous. </em> </p><p>“I—I don’t know what to say,” Castiel stutters, reaching to accept them. He doesn’t have to decide whether or not he should bury his face in them to see if they smell as good as they look, because he catches a whiff of them on his next inhale. They smell wonderful, and Castiel already can’t stop smiling. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”</p><p>“I was impressed, not gonna lie,” Dean says, nodding his agreement. “I didn’t know if flowers were the way to go with another guy, but I told the florist and she freaking nailed it. I might go back for some for my dad’s house just because. They’re awesome. Not to, uh, toot my own horn or whatever.”</p><p>“No, you earned it. Toot away.” He hears a snort and looks up to see Dean trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. Castiel’s confusion must be apparent, because Dean waves him away.</p><p>“Sorry, ignore me,” Dean says. </p><p>Castiel can see that Dean’s lips are curved in a smile that he doesn’t seem to be able to will away, though, and his eyes are dancing with laughter that Castiel doesn’t understand. Not wanting to make a fool out of himself before they even get out of the house, he decides to heed Dean’s advice and move their date along.</p><p>“Alright,” Castiel says carefully. “Come in for a minute and I’ll see if I can find something to put them in.”</p><p>“People usually go with a vase,” Dean teases.</p><p>“I’m aware,” he says dryly, but he smiles at Dean over his shoulder so Dean knows he’s not actually bothered. “I don’t have one, but I think...” He reaches up to open the cupboard above the stove, one that’s filled with miscellaneous kitchen objects he doesn’t use all that often, and rifles around a little until he spots what he was looking for. “Aha,” he says quietly. He pulls down the old ceramic pitcher and blows on it to displace the dust. He turns to face Dean and shows him what he found with a smile, and Dean nods his head in what Castiel assumes is agreement.</p><p>“That should work,” Dean says, confirming his suspicions.</p><p>He has to rinse it out twice for the water to look clear, but then he can unwrap the flowers and place them inside. He’s sure there’s some sort of art to arranging the flowers to make them look nice, but he just plops them inside and calls it a day. He’ll have plenty of time to fuss with them when he can’t feel Dean’s eyes following his every move.</p><p>“That should do it for now,” he says, only half sure. He really has no idea if that’s all you’re supposed to do with flowers, but nothing else is coming to mind, so that’s as good as it’s going to get.</p><p>“You ready to head out then?” Dean checks.</p><p>“Yes. After you.”</p><p>Dean smiles and nods, and then the two of them walk through the door. Castiel closes it behind him, and they start down the stairs. It’s much cooler outside than it is in his apartment, and Castiel is just thinking he might actually have time to cool off enough to stop dripping in sweat by the time they make it to the restaurant when he loses his footing.</p><p>He’s familiar enough with tripping over his own feet that he reacts in time to brace himself with one hand on the railing and one hand... on Dean’s shoulder, apparently. Dean spins towards him as Castiel falls forward, landing down one step further than he would have if he could walk down the stairs like any other able-bodied person, and Dean responds by wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist. While a small part of him is so embarrassed by his clumsiness he wants to die, another teeny tiny little part of him is pleased to be slumped against Dean’s (remarkably firm) body like this.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Castiel can feel additional heat rise to his face and burning at the tips of his ears when he realizes he is okay, but he just made an ass of himself before they even made it to the parking lot. “Yes. I caught myself—” <em> On your body. </em>“—in time.” Dean’s lips pull in like he’s trying to hide a smile, which is when he hears how stupid he sounds. “Obviously. Thanks to you.” Which reminds him he should probably move instead of bracing himself against Dean’s chest, even though he seems perfectly comfortable holding most of Castiel’s weight. Best not to think about that. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.</p><p>“Don’t be. I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt.” Castiel nods, finally coming back to himself enough to straighten up out of Dean’s arms. “Nobody’s fallen for me on the first date before,” Dean quips.</p><p>Castiel laughs despite the fact that Dean is making fun of him. “I somehow doubt that.”</p><p>Dean bounces his eyebrows playfully in response. Once that garners a smile from Castiel, he continues, “Think you can make it down the last few steps on your own or should we hold hands just in case?”</p><p>“I’ll tighten my grip on the railing,” Castiel answers, and Dean grins before he turns and continues down the stairs. Castiel watches each step like they might lurch under his feet just to make him fall again, but once they reach the bottom and Castiel is at least slightly less likely to trip and fall, he looks up to see Dean’s Impala in the parking lot and smiles without thinking. “I was hoping you’d pick me up in this.”</p><p>“I don’t go anywhere without her,” Dean replies, walking around to the passenger seat. </p><p>For one wild moment, Castiel thinks he’s about to be invited to drive, but then Dean gestures for Castiel to get in. <em> Oh. </em> Dean’s holding the door open for him. That’s a sweet, chivalrous gesture he wasn’t expecting, and he ducks his face to try to hide his blush (though he keeps reminding himself Dean likely won’t be able to tell the difference between his red face from being overheated and him blushing).  </p><p>“Thank you,” he says once he’s seated inside. Dean shoots him a tiny wink that’s far too endearing than he knows what to do with. Once the door is shut, Castiel takes a deep breath to try to settle his nerves while Dean walks around the car. It draws in a nose full of leather and motor oil and what he can only assume is Dean’s cologne. It’s the epitome of masculinity, and it makes something warm bloom in his belly. When Dean gets in his side of the car and closes the car door, both the scent and his reaction to it grows. That’s not something he should be concentrating on though, so he mentally shifts gears and starts a new conversation. “I’m sure you’re aware, but this is a beautiful car.”</p><p>The smile he gets from Dean for that is one of the biggest he’s seen so far. “She’s my pride and joy.”</p><p>“I can see that. You obviously take excellent care of it for it to be in such pristine condition after all these years.”</p><p>“Not it, Cas. She,” Dean corrects him. “My Baby’s a lady.”</p><p>Huh. Dean’s assigned a gender and an endearment to his car. That’s not something Castiel can necessarily relate to, but considering he’s very aware of how important this particular car is to Dean, it’s not necessarily surprising, either. “I won’t make the same mistake again,” he promises.</p><p>“I’d probably forgive you a second time if you asked real nice.” The way Dean says it makes it clear that he would forgive him many, many times, and it does nothing to help with the warmth seeping inside of him from Dean’s proximity. “How was your day?”</p><p>They chat a little bit about that on the way to the restaurant, and Castiel is beginning to relax by the time they pull into the parking lot there. They walk inside in a comfortable silence, and he watches Dean’s easy confidence while he tells the hostess they have a reservation. Castiel rarely carries himself with so much grace, and even then, it’s only when he’s dealing with antiques.</p><p>“Winchester?” the hostess asks. Castiel cocks his head to the side — he didn’t hear Dean give his last name yet. “My oldest sister was in the same year as you at Westmont. I only recognize you because she had a major crush on you,” she says with a smirk. “Anyway, your table’s ready.” She looks behind him, to where Castiel is standing, then looks around him. “Where’s your date?”</p><p>Even though this is no longer high school, he suddenly feels like it is all over again. Or maybe he just feels smaller, not younger. All he knows is this interaction has made him starkly and painfully aware of how people must view Castiel and Dean together. Obviously the hostess never assumed a nerd like Castiel was out with a former football star like Dean, and he can’t exactly blame her. Dean is light years out of Castiel’s league, and everybody seems to know that but Dean himself. </p><p>“Right there,” Dean says. She checks again, actually looking right at Castiel this time before dismissing him altogether and looking back at Dean. Castiel can’t force himself to flick his eyes up to look at Dean's reaction to all of this. What if Dean realizes who he’s out with now that she’s pointed it out? “Tall. Dark hair. Killer pair of blue eyes. Looks good enough to eat in a sweater vest/blazer combo?”</p><p>Castiel knows she gets it the second her eyes start to resemble dinner plates. “Oh! Duh,” she giggles nervously. “My mistake. Follow me, and I’ll show you guys to your table.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Dean replies. He turns to Cas, shrugs apologetically, and leads the way to the table. Once they’re settled in at a cozy little dark wood booth with a surprisingly comfortable cushion, Dean sighs heavily. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“You did tell me you were something of a big deal,” Castiel says.</p><p>Dean visibly balks. “When the hell did I say that?”</p><p>“You said you were the captain of the football team, and I saw that picture of you getting all those candy canes. This is a small town. I can put two and two together.”</p><p>“Oh...kay,” Dean says slowly. </p><p>“How often does that sort of thing happen?”</p><p>Dean shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but Castiel thinks he doesn’t look nearly as comfortable as he did in the car. “I don’t know, sometimes, I guess,” he says, effectively dodging the question. “I figure it’s because I’m not here all the time so it’s a novelty when I am.”</p><p>“You’re not here all the time?” Castiel echoes, curious to see what he means by that.</p><p>“No, I just moved back last weekend.” </p><p>Castiel starts wracking his brain for clues in their past conversations that might have alluded to that, but he doesn’t think Dean’s ever mentioned it. “I thought you said you lived across the street?”</p><p>“My dad lives there,” Dean explains. “Well, lived, I guess.” Right, Dean did mention that his dad passed away recently. “I’ve got a few weeks off to go through his stuff and find space for my own stuff, and then I’ve gotta try setting up an office.”</p><p>“That’s certainly a large undertaking all at once.” Dean nods and blows out a long stream of air like he can hardly believe he’s chosen to put himself through it all. To help make him feel better, Castiel says, “At least you’ve already done it once before, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s a little different than it was the first time around.”</p><p>“How come?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“I just moved from where I went to college. Even though I never got to play a game there, I practiced with the football team for a while before I got hurt. The guys on the football team must’ve felt bad for me or something because they visited me when I was laid up in the hospital, and I stayed tight with the team even though I wasn’t on it. I never missed a game,” Dean tells him, but he has a far-away look in his eyes now. Maybe even wistful. “They were still my friends when I graduated, and because so many of them were athletic, I pretty much grew my own clientele before I even graduated. They all swore they’d come to me if I opened my own practice, so I did, and I guess the rest is history.”</p><p>Not even thirty years old and Dean has his own medical practice. “That’s impressive.”</p><p>“I wasn’t rolling in it or anything, but I did okay,” Dean says modestly. “Never really planned to settle down there, but everything sorta fell into place and I guess I grew roots when I wasn’t looking.”</p><p>He can relate, in a way. He never planned to stay in the same city he was born in for his entire life, but then he learned he was meant to take over his dad’s store, and now that he has, that means he can never leave. His roots grew when he wasn’t looking, too. </p><p>“Did you have any other family there?” Cas wonders, more to keep the conversation going than out of genuine curiosity.</p><p>“Nah, there’s just me and my little brother left, and he lives out in Stoneybrook. Only about an hour from here. My, uh, stand-in dad, I guess you could say? He lives here. You probably know him. Bobby Singer?”</p><p>The picture of a gruff but kind man with a beard and a ball cap comes to mind immediately. “Yes, I know of him.”</p><p>“I figured. He’s the kinda guy who tends to leave an impression,” Dean grins. “So yeah, I’m tight with him and Ellen and their daughter, Jo. Ellen and Jo own The Roadhouse.”</p><p>He’s spoken to them both plenty of times over the years while dining at their restaurant. “Best burgers in town,” Castiel says truthfully. </p><p>“Lead with that if I ever introduce you,” Dean says. Castiel blushes at the idea of someday meeting Dean’s family. “My actual dad was never all that reliable, so Bobby and Ellen did most of the parental shit when me and Sammy were growing up. We’re still pretty tight.”</p><p>“It’s nice that you have that,” Castiel says.</p><p>“They’re pretty great,” Dean agrees. “They’re the biggest reason I decided to move back.”</p><p>“You realize that might affect your level of celebrity,” Castiel jokes.</p><p>“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep now,” Dean teases, and Castiel allows himself to laugh quietly at the joke. </p><p>When their waitress comes over, they both order soda and the same cut of steak, and although they talk at length about how full they are several times throughout their meal, Castiel agrees to split dessert when Dean asks. The conversation flows as freely as it had over their food, and they take their time taking bites of a truly delicious cheesecake. At some point between when they ordered and now, they both started leaning across the table to get closer to the other, and their knees bump frequently enough beneath the table that Castiel has to believe it’s a playful but purposeful way of touching on Dean’s part. Later, Castiel will probably marvel over the serendipity of having the perfect first date with the perfect man who just moved here the weekend before, but for now, Castiel is too busy enjoying it while it lasts.</p><p>For all of the cursing Castiel had done when he was sweating bullets and getting ready for tonight, he has to admit, this has been a wonderful night. Dean is funny and witty, and when he isn’t blushing and stuttering after they make eye contact, he’s the very picture of perfection. In Castiel’s opinion, those tiny flaws only add to his appeal by making Dean seem more normal and attainable. He isn’t about to say that out loud, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’s broadcasting his approval rather obviously anyway, because Dean isn’t shying away from first, playfully poking at his hand, and then soon after, covering it with his own. </p><p><em> He’s holding hands with Dean, </em>and somehow, his heart isn’t flying right out of his chest even though he feels like it might at any moment.</p><p>Is this what he’s been missing all these years? Sharing a meal with an attractive, intelligent person and getting to know Dean better all while being looked at like he’s somebody worth knowing, too? He may not have done this before, but he’s seen his fair share of movies, and there’s no mistaking the way Dean gazes at him with so much interest. It’s scary and nerve-wracking and absolutely <em> wonderful, </em> and Castiel hopes Dean never stops looking at him like this.</p><p>That might explain why although they stretch dinner to last two hours, he still feels reluctant to put an end to the evening. Thankfully, he isn’t the only one. Dean insists on paying for the meal and opening his car door for him again once they reach it, and Castiel is trying to paste a smile on his face even though he’s dreading saying goodbye to Dean when Dean turns towards him.</p><p>“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go for a drive?”</p><p><em> Yes. </em>“Any particular destination in mind?”</p><p>Dean’s eyes search Castiel’s for a long moment before he replies. “Stars.”</p><p>That surprises him, but in a good way. It’s not quite dark yet, but he knows it will be shortly, and he’s definitely not against stretching out their date long enough to wait for them. “That sounds nice.”</p><p>It’s nice before they even get to wherever Dean is driving them, because Dean takes Castiel’s hand again and they drive through some backroads and up into a steady incline with their hands folded on the bench seat between them.</p><p>“Have you ever been up here?” Dean asks.</p><p>Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t have a car, and I had no idea these backroads even existed.”</p><p>“You’re in for a hell of a treat, Cas,” Dean tells him. “Pretty sure this is my favorite spot in the world.”</p><p>Once they make it into a clearing, Castiel can see why. Dean drives towards the edge of a cliff, and the closer they get, the more it feels like the whole world opens up around them. All he can see in front of him is the sun sinking in the sky, and all around it, vast, open wilderness. </p><p>“This is gorgeous,” Castiel says once the car comes to a stop.</p><p>“Wanna get out for a better look?” Dean asks. “I’ve got a blanket in the trunk to keep us warm.”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”</p><p>They both get out of the car, and Dean pops the trunk to get the blanket he spoke of. It’s a plush one that looks extremely warm, and he looks around for somewhere comfortable to sit so they can look at the sky together. </p><p>“Right here,” Dean says, patting the hood of his car. “Best seat in the house. Just be careful you don’t scratch the paint.”</p><p>That cranks his nerves up several notches. “You know how clumsy I am.”</p><p>“There’s a reason I parked the car so far from the cliff, you know,” Dean teases. “Don’t die, and anything else, I can probably live with. Just, uh, don’t tell anybody I said so.”</p><p>Dean’s hand is rubbing at the back of his neck again, letting Castiel know he’s nervous about something he just said, and it’s that more than anything that gives him the courage to climb up on the hood of the car. It’s far from graceful, but he manages, and he mirrors Dean when Dean leans back against the window. Dean spreads the blanket over them both, and when it barely fits the width of them, they scooch together a little closer.</p><p>“Do you mind if I put my arm around you?” Dean asks. He waits a beat, then adds, “To save space, you know.”</p><p>He knows that tone of voice by now. It means Dean’s teasing him, and based on everything else that’s happened tonight, he thinks it’s because Dean wanting to put his arm around Castiel has nothing to do with saving space. </p><p>“It seems only practical,” Castiel replies, doing what he can to mimic Dean’s tone. He doesn’t want there to be any doubt about how much he wants to be closer to Dean. </p><p>Thankfully, Dean’s broad smile lets him know Dean understood loud and clear, and then Dean fits his arm over Castiel’s shoulders. It causes him to lean into Dean’s side more than he was before, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how easily they fit together. </p><p>“That’s the good stuff, right there,” Dean says happily, rubbing Castiel’s shoulder slightly.</p><p>“This feels nice,” he agrees. Then, because it seems like it should be said, he adds, “Thank you for bringing me here.”</p><p>“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” The way Dean says that makes him think there might be more to it. He looks at him curiously, and Dean laughs a little. “I, uh, might’ve thought about this a couple hundred times since high school.”</p><p>He huffs a laugh himself, still baffled that Dean has had a crush on him all these years. “You could’ve brought someone else.”</p><p>“I did,” Dean admits sheepishly. “This is kinda known as Makeout Point, and I was so worried about people figuring out I was into dudes that I spent a lotta weekends up here with girls trying to bury the scent.”</p><p>Suddenly, the air seems much, much colder than it did a moment ago. “So this isn’t specific to me, then. You just bring all your dates up here.”</p><p>“Some, yeah. Back in the day,” Dean says quietly. “But, uh, if it helps at all... half the time I was wishing it was you.” It’s ridiculous that hearing that makes him feel a little better, but it does. “Plus, I’ve never brought a guy up here before. Just you.”</p><p>That helps to put him at ease even more. Honestly, it had been silly to think that because this is his first time here that it would be Dean’s, too. Dean wouldn’t even know about this place if he hasn’t been here before. It’s better to let that go and focus on continuing the conversation.</p><p>“Why is that?” he wonders. “I’m sure you didn’t have a lack of volunteers from either sex.”</p><p>“My dad,” Dean answers. “He wasn’t supportive. Told me if I liked girls, too, I should stick to them so I didn’t embarrass him. He’s probably rolling in his grave right now, but at least I don’t have to hear him call me—” He cuts off abruptly and looks away. “Well. I’m sure you can guess.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says solemnly. He knows it isn’t enough and he wishes he had more to add, but he doesn’t know what else to say.</p><p>“‘s not a big deal,” Dean says easily. Too easily, if you ask him. “Can I tell you something that makes me a really shitty person?”</p><p>“You can tell me anything.”</p><p>“I’m not <em> glad </em> my dad died,” Dean starts. Castiel didn’t know where he was going when he asked the question, but he thought it might have something to do with his father. “But I’m pretty fucking relieved I don’t have to hide who I am anymore.”</p><p>“I don’t think that makes you a shitty person.” </p><p>Dean snorts a laugh. “Not like you’d say it if you did.”</p><p>“I would,” Castiel insists. </p><p>That gets a more genuine-sounding laugh out of Dean, and Dean leans in to brace his forehead on Castiel’s temple. Dean leaves it there for a moment, and Castiel is suddenly lost in their newfound closeness. He can feel each of Dean’s breaths warm against his cheek and smell the peppermint they each ate from the restaurant. It’s as nice as it is unsettling. He’s never been this close to another person before, and certainly not one as attractive as Dean. It feels like his skin is crawling, his heart is racing, and his face is far warmer than it should be considering how cold it is outside.</p><p>“Y’know, I think I believe you,” Dean says, so quietly Castiel knows he can only hear him because of their proximity. Dean lifts his chin and for a second, Castiel thinks Dean’s going to press his lips to his temple, but Dean pulls away instead. Castiel tries to tell himself he isn’t disappointed. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”</p><p>“Me, too. Thanks for showing me what a good first date feels like.”</p><p>“Been stuck with some bad ones, huh?” Dean asks, all good humor.</p><p>“No, this is my first.”</p><p>There’s what feels like several very heavy seconds of silence after that, and although he’s too cowardly to look at Dean for his reaction, he imagines Dean’s looking at him like people looked at Steve Carell’s character in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. He knows it’s odd to be 29 without going on a date or having sex, but that’s his reality, and if Dean’s going to judge him or like him any less because of it, he’d rather know now than later. </p><p>“This is your first date?” Dean asks. Castiel nods. <em> “Ever?” </em> Castiel nods again. “Damn, the people in this town really are dumbasses,” Dean says under his breath. Then, in his normal voice, “Their loss, man. This is the best first date I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Warmth blooms in Castiel’s chest. “I’m guessing you’ve been on many more than I have.”</p><p>“I’ve had my fair share. Again, never with a guy, though,” Dean admits. “So I guess it’s kind of a first for both of us.”</p><p>Castiel’s heart flutters. Dean is a kind man, a <em> good </em> man to say something like that about his own inexperience to help Castiel feel better about his. “I’m glad mine was with you,” he tells Dean.</p><p>Dean doesn’t respond verbally, he just squeezes Castiel’s shoulder tightly enough that it moves him a little bit closer to Dean’s body. Dean’s shoulder is right behind his head, and because it seems like the right thing to do, he leans into it and rests his head there. Dean makes a happy little sound in his throat, and they sit there like that for some time. It gets cold fast once the sun sets completely, and whenever they talk, their mingling breaths create white fog in the air that makes it hard to see the stars, but it doesn’t stop them from talking about their pasts, their lives now, and what they hope their futures might look like someday.</p><p>He’s not surprised to hear that Dean wants a couple of kids, but Dean doesn’t like the way Castiel’s always assumed he’d live out the rest of his life the way he lives it now — mostly in solitude. </p><p>“You’ll find someone,” Dean insists for what has to be the dozenth time. “I mean, hey, if you wanted to... we could do this again.” Dean wants to go on another date with him. Dean wants to keep seeing him, and hearing that makes Castiel smile so big he can’t even talk through it. “I mean. Not this exactly — although we could. If you want. Whatever you want, we could do that. Go out again, I mean. Or stay in, if you want to. Whatever—”</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel interrupts, trying not to be amused by his nervous babbling.</p><p>“Thank god,” Dean groans, rubbing his hand down his face. “I could hear how stupid I sounded but I could <em> not </em> stop talking.”</p><p>Castiel allows himself to laugh now. “I would like to go out with you again.” Dean’s smile spreads so fast that Castiel finds it nearly contagious. “Very much.”</p><p>“That — that’s good,” Dean says. “Me, too.”</p><p>Feeling bold now that he knows for sure Dean’s enjoying himself, he asks, “Would you like to go back to my place to warm up?” Dean’s eyebrows lift lightning fast, and even though he doesn’t know why, Castiel feels a sudden need to be more specific. “With hot chocolate or tea or coffee?”</p><p>Dean huffs a laugh, but he does it while nodding. “Yeah. Hot chocolate sounds awesome.”</p><p>Once Dean slides off of the hood of his car, Castiel follows his lead and does the same. Dean gathers up the blanket and folds it up to put it back in the trunk, and then they get inside. The heat actually comes out cold at first, but it warms up quickly, and by the time they pull into the parking lot behind Castiel’s store, he’s feeling kind of silly about the idea of warming up with hot chocolate when neither of them are cold now. </p><p>He says as much when they park. “I didn’t take the car warming us up into account when I offered the hot chocolate.”</p><p>“Oh.” It comes out sounding like a mixture of surprise and disappointment, but it only shows on Dean’s face for a moment before he schools his expression into something cautiously hopeful. “Well, if you’re not feeling up to it anymore, maybe I can take a raincheck for another time?”</p><p>If Dean wants to keep spending time with him, he’s not about to turn that down. “The invitation is still open if you want it,” Castiel offers.</p><p>“Yeah?” Dean checks.</p><p>He doesn’t know how much he’s supposed to reveal and how much he’s supposed to keep to himself about his growing feelings for Dean, but he’s already told Dean he’s enjoying himself and Dean’s made it pretty clear that he feels the same way, so he thinks it should be okay to tell him what he’s really thinking. “I don’t want the night to end yet.”</p><p>Dean’s expression shifts again, and although he struggles to put a name to this one, all he can think is he’s sure nobody has ever smiled at him with so much softness around the edges before. “Me neither. Come on.”</p><p>With that, they both get out of the car and head back up the stairs towards Castiel’s apartment. He’s about half way up when Dean says, “Feeling a little steadier on your feet going up?”</p><p>“No, I fall up at least as frequently as I fall down,” Castiel answers honestly. That gets a bark of laughter from behind him, and they both have smiles on their faces by the time they reach the top where Castiel unlocks his front door. </p><p>The first thing he’s aware of as they step into the apartment is that he can really smell the flowers. “I’m going to enjoy coming home to the smell of the flowers you got me,” Castiel tells Dean. “While they last anyway.”</p><p>“There’s lots more where those came from,” Dean replies. Castiel isn’t sure if that means Dean’s going to provide more in the future, or if Castiel can just go out and buy some more himself when the time comes, but he’s definitely not going to ask. </p><p>“Can I take your jacket?” he asks instead.</p><p>“Thanks,” Dean says, shrugging out of it and handing it over. </p><p>Castiel hangs it in the closet just inside the hall, and with that done, he removes his own blazer to put it on the back of his kitchen chair. He turns back to Dean, but the invitation he was about to make about Dean joining him in the living room gets stuck in his throat when he sees Dean’s eyes very deliberately eyeing his sweater vest now that he can see it better. </p><p>Truthfully, Castiel is endlessly amused by the effect his clothes seem to have on Dean, but he also isn’t used to being looked at like this. It makes his skin feel too hot and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to react. With that in mind, he crosses his arms over his chest and aims a knowing look at Dean when Dean’s eyes make it back to his face.</p><p>Just like he suspected, Dean’s face heats up and he immediately starts apologizing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, you just, uh, caught me off-guard with the reveal,” he says, smiling a very charming smile at Castiel. He has a feeling this particular smile works to get Dean out of trouble more often than not, and this is going to be another case of exactly that. “You’re wearing <em> the hell </em> outta that sweater vest.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Castiel says simply. “Would you like to relax in the living room or would you be more comfortable with a hot drink in the kitchen?”</p><p>“I’m actually pretty dry after all that talking outside. Can I just get a glass of water?”</p><p>“Sure. I also have iced tea and soda if you’d rather.”</p><p>“Pepsi?” Dean asks.</p><p>“I can do that. Do you want a glass?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m not fancy.” </p><p>Castiel nods at that and grabs him a can from the fridge. “If I’m drinking a hot beverage on my own, I think I’ll make some tea.” With that decided, he plugs in his electric kettle.</p><p>“Big tea drinker?” Dean asks, leaning back against the wall next to the closet.</p><p>“I usually have tea before bed, but other than that, I prefer coffee.”</p><p>“Now you’re speakin’ my language. I don’t know how people drink tea. It smells like old people.” Castiel huffs a laugh at that, and Dean seems to rethink what he just said. “Not that you’re old,” he adds. Then his eyes widen even further as he continues, “Or smell like old people.”</p><p>“I might after I drink it,” Castiel says lightly. </p><p>Sounding very put-upon, Dean sighs. “I was doing so well with not making an ass out of myself before we got here, too.”</p><p>Castiel chuckles again. “I think you’re doing just fine. If it wasn’t for the occasional foot-in-mouth moment, I would think I’m out with a droid or something.”</p><p>“What? Why?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely baffled.</p><p>“You must know what you look like,” Castiel says carefully. </p><p>Dean acknowledges that with a half shrug. “I know what you think I look like. You mentioned a perfectly symmetrical face a few times.” </p><p>Nodding, Castiel says, “Add that to how you’re smart, funny, easy to talk to, and the least judgmental person I think I’ve ever spoken with, and there’s a lot there to suggest you might not be human after all.”</p><p>Dean snorts a laugh. “Let me get Sam or Jo on the phone and I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to go through a long ass list of all the ways I’m <em> annoyingly </em> human.”</p><p>“I think I’d rather hear them from you,” Castiel says, finding the whole conversation amusing. “In time, of course. I wouldn’t want you to spill all your secrets on the first date.”</p><p>Instead of responding to that, Dean grins. “First date, huh?”</p><p>Castiel tilts his head to the side in confusion. “It was our first date.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “But ‘first date’ sounds kinda like you’re differentiating between this date and, uh, <em> other </em> dates we might go on.”</p><p>“...like a second date?” Castiel wonders.</p><p>“Oh man. A second date sounds even better than ‘first date’ did.”</p><p>It’s never been this easy for anybody to get a smile out of him, but one teasingly flirtatious comment from Dean is all it takes to have another one curving his lips. “It does have a nice ring to it.”</p><p>“Hey, Cas?” Castiel looks up from where he was waiting for the kettle. “What are you doing next weekend?” </p><p>Dean’s smiling softly, and once again, Castiel can’t help but smile back. “I don’t have any plans.”</p><p>“Can I take you out again?”</p><p>He doesn’t even have to think about it. “I’d like that.”</p><p>“Awesome,” Dean breathes. </p><p>His tea is ready only seconds after that, but he still makes it all the way through fixing his tea and showing Dean to the living room without that smile fading the littlest bit. It’s only when they sit and he sees Dean openly looking around that it occurs to him how startlingly <em> odd </em> it is to have somebody else in his space. He hasn’t had to worry about it for ages, but he’s suddenly very glad that he’s a naturally tidy person. He never anticipated Dean coming inside at any point when he was obsessing over how tonight might go, so he hadn’t cleaned beforehand. </p><p>Judging by Dean’s reaction, he doesn’t mind his level of cleanliness. “It’s not a bad place you’ve got up here.”</p><p>“It’s home,” Castiel says simply. “I know it’s not much, but I like it.”</p><p>“It’s cozy. Comfortable couch, too,” Dean comments.</p><p>“It’s served me well for several hours of reading.”</p><p>“Yeah? Have you read anything good lately?”</p><p>That sets them off on an incredibly satisfying back-and-forth about books they’ve read. They’ve both read a lot of the same Best Sellers, but outside of that, Castiel leans more towards historic fiction and Dean is more into thrillers and classics. It leaves them with plenty of familiar content to discuss and provides opportunities to share, and just like at the restaurant, he gets pulled into Dean’s orbit while they get to know each other. </p><p>Like a replay of under the table earlier, their knees brush and then settle together. Their hands close the distance between them, and then somehow, they’re holding hands on the couch. They keep talking, getting sidetracked with television shows relating to the books that come up often enough to keep it interesting, and the whole time, Dean’s fingers are woven between his own. He feels Dean’s thumb caress the back of his hand every once in a while, and whenever Dean gets excited, he squeezes or jiggles Castiel’s hand for emphasis. The weight and warmth of Dean’s hands is comforting, but every new touch makes his heart race, and he’s quietly floored that married people or those in long-term relationships get to just do this whenever they want.</p><p>Long after their glasses are drained, they’re still getting to know each other better. Dean’s feet are kicked up behind him on the couch, they’re leaning into one another, and both of their faces are getting rosier by the second.</p><p>He loses track of the conversation several times, getting lost in all the ways Dean’s lips move to form every syllable and around each of his different smiles, wondering if Dean has any idea his mouth is the most perfectly succulent thing he’s ever seen. It’s not like he didn’t notice that Dean was so dreamy before now, but being this close to him, touching him, and being the center of Dean’s attention has the sparks between them pushed to the forefront of his mind... frequently. To be completely honest, after looking right at Dean and listening to him speak so passionately and so intelligently about classic literature one second and Schitt’s Creek the next, Castiel silently comes to the realization that <em> everything </em> about Dean could be considered perfect. </p><p>Dean’s good-looking, smart, funny, and he’s almost unnaturally kind and gentle. </p><p>He’s openly staring at the lips that inspired that train of thought, watching eagerly for another smile that makes Dean’s tongue peek out behind his teeth, when the abrupt silence in the room strikes him. His eyes flick up just in time for him to see Dean’s eyes move from <em> his </em> lips up. Their eyes catch at the same moment <em> we were staring at each other’s lips </em>sinks in, and a sudden, undeniable heat flares in his stomach. </p><p><em> God, </em>he wants Dean to kiss him. How can he get Dean to kiss him?</p><p>“I, uh—” Dean croaks. Dean clears his throat before he keeps going. “It’s late. I should probably get going.”</p><p>He won’t pretend he doesn’t feel a sinking sense of disappointment, but Dean is absolutely right. Their date can’t go on forever, no matter how much he’s enjoying himself, and this is a logical place to wrap it up. “You’re probably right,” Castiel agrees.</p><p>They untangle their limbs and get to their feet reluctantly, and Castiel follows Dean out to the front door. He’s seen enough television to know this is the part of the night where he’s most likely to get his first kiss from Dean, and his nerves seem to double with every step they take in that direction. He can feel his palms sweating and his heart hammering, and when Dean slips into his jacket and turns towards him, he’s afraid he might be having a stroke.</p><p>“You probably picked up on this already, but I had a great time tonight,” Dean says softly.</p><p>In his mind, Castiel replies, “Me, too.”</p><p>In reality, he blurts, “Are you going to kiss me?”</p><p>Dean’s shock only lasts for a second before he laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean, I was definitely working up the courage to ask. Yeah.”</p><p>His brain stops working. He can’t for the life of him make sense of the words he just heard. They’re there, he just can’t grasp what they mean. “You were going to ask if you could kiss me?” Castiel repeats.</p><p>“I wanted to, yeah,” Dean confirms again.</p><p><em> Dean wants to kiss him. </em> </p><p>That does nothing to help his mounting nerves. In fact, he’s pretty sure his knees have started shaking. His hands definitely are. He hasn’t ever kissed anybody in a romantic way, and as much as he would really, really like to kiss Dean, he’s also hyper aware of how awkward and unbecoming it must be that he’s almost thirty and doesn’t know how. </p><p>“I—” His voice wavers and breaks and he has to push himself to keep going. The need to see Dean’s face the second he says this is the driving force behind him being able to make eye contact. “I’ve never...”</p><p>Understanding visibly dawns on Dean’s face, and a portion of Castiel’s nerves disappears when he sees Dean’s features school themselves into quiet understanding. “If you wanna wait—”</p><p>“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I just... don’t know how to kiss you back. From a practical experience point of view.”</p><p>Honestly, Castiel doesn’t know how anyone could expect him to survive the weight of the affection inside of Dean’s gaze after that. “We’ll go slow,” he says tenderly. Castiel nods, hysterically thinking that Dean’s lips being pressed to his “slowly” sounds nice. Dean steps in and reaches out between them, easing his hands forward to gently cup Castiel’s face in his palms. “If you wanna stop, we stop.”</p><p>He can feel Dean’s breath ghosting against his lips and feels genuinely weak in the knees. “I don’t want to stop.”</p><p>“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”</p><p>He would have swooned even without permission, but with it, his eyelashes hit his cheek in an instant. Barely a moment later, the bridge of Dean’s nose bumps his, and he huffs a nervous laugh when he startles physically. Before he can breathe back in, he feels the dry, solid press of Dean’s plush lips against his. Dean’s thumbs stroke down his cheeks to give him a moment to process that (very nice, and not nearly as scary and intimidating as he thought it would be), and then Dean does it a second time. This time the pressure of Dean’s lips lasts for longer, and by the third, even longer kiss, Castiel is moving his lips against Dean’s to keep them in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world. </p><p>Dean hums a low sound of approval that travels down his throat and directly between his legs, and so when Dean’s lips gently prod Castiel’s to open, they part without a conscious thought. His fingers curl into Dean’s jacket as bit by bit, their kiss gets fuller, wetter, and more satisfying. Dean changes the angle of his head just a hair, and they align that much more perfectly, making Castiel sink into it with a moan that’s coaxed from the very soles of his feet.</p><p>He wants to keep going. He wants kissing Dean to be endless. He wants to feel Dean’s slickened lips gliding against his own long after he ceases to exist. He wants the hand in his hair to slip down his back and pull him close, and he wants to feel Dean’s firm chest press him back against the door.</p><p>He gasps when Dean’s lips suddenly close around his bottom lip to <em> suck, </em> but then Dean’s pulling away with a strangled sound full of regret. <em> Too soon, </em> Castiel thinks. Far, far too soon. When the kiss comes to an end, Castiel is breathing heavily, and he doesn’t realize his head is spinning until Dean braces his forehead against his. </p><p>“You have no freaking clue how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Dean whispers. </p><p><em> Oh. </em> It feels like his heart has grown a pair of wings and is fluttering like mad in his chest. He’s breathless for countless reasons when he replies. “The walk from the couch to the door already felt like a lifetime.”</p><p>Dean breathes out shakily before reluctantly inching away. “What you do to me, Cas.”</p><p>He might have felt bad about that, except the look on Dean’s face is a new one and not at all remorseful. It’s heated and only partially satisfied but still unbelievably smug, and the punch of lust Castiel feels straight to his gut knowing that <em> he put that look there </em> is surprising in its intensity. </p><p>“I think I’m experiencing something similar with you.”</p><p>“First kisses will do that to ya,” Dean teases.</p><p>“Only good ones, I imagine,” Castiel points out.</p><p>Almost like Dean doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, Dean reaches out to cup his face again. Tonight has been a night of many discoveries for Castiel, and one of the biggest has been just how much he enjoys being touched. Maybe that’s specific to Dean, but maybe he’s a more physical person than he’s ever had the chance to explore so far. He has it now, though, and he likes it, so he leans into Dean’s palm shamelessly.</p><p>“Save a date for me next weekend?” Dean asks softly.<br/><br/>As wonderful as that sounds, it also sounds like a prelude to goodbye, which he doesn’t like. “I will,” Castiel promises.</p><p>Dean’s hand slides down to his shoulder and all the way down his arm to his wrist where he gives it a gentle little squeeze. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Okay. Thank you for dinner.” Dean nods, opening the door. Now that Castiel’s brain is working enough to have his manners kick in, he adds a few more thank yous as they come to him. “And for the date. And the kiss.”</p><p>Dean grins at him over his shoulder as he walks through the door. “Anytime,” he says before he disappears into the stairway with a wink, putting a distinct and memorable end to what just might be the best night of Castiel’s life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If second-hand embarrassment was a tag, I would use it as a warning for this chapter lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you ask Dean how he made it home after their date, he couldn’t tell you. He has absolutely no recollection of anything after winking at Cas, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard he flew. Logically, the Impala is in the garage so he knows he must have driven home, but nothing will convince him flying wasn’t an option. He just had the best fucking date of his life with <em> Castiel Milton. </em></p><p>He knew going into their night that Cas was gorgeous. He knew Cas was smart, and he knew Cas had a dry but sharp sense of humor, but he had no idea he was going to be taking Cas out on his first date. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t know, in hindsight. He would have been even more nervous, and knowing him, he would’ve tried to pull off some crazy over-the-top gesture that he inevitably would’ve fumbled. Yeah, he’s glad he didn’t know, because their date was perfect exactly the way it was.</p><p>He can’t remember ever talking that much to anybody outside of Sammy, and any long talks with Sam had only been because the two of them were trapped together in a car for a long-ass drive. Talking to Cas had been nothing like that. Well, it was kinda like it because it was weirdly easy once they got going, but he knows for damn sure he’s never gotten starry-eyed over anything his brother’s ever had to say. He was practically scraping his jaw off the floor every time Cas spoke. Cas is a fucking genius. He knows Zepp, loves David Rose almost as much as he does, and was so <em> deliciously </em> nerdy with his obvious thirst for knowledge that he seemed damn near irresistible at the time. No wonder the dude is so smart. Cas hung on every word Dean said, drinking him in with eyes so eager Dean could practically see his brain soaking them up like a sponge.</p><p>Come to think of it, Cas was like that with his touches, too. Dean’s seen people come alive under his hands over the years, but never so innocently as Cas. Every time their knees bumped or their fingers brushed, Cas would still for just a second, then as Cas realized he liked each and every touch, he leaned into them with abandon and it was surprisingly hard for Dean to keep his hands to himself. Cas seemed so pleased every time Dean held his hand or rubbed a thumb over the back of it, and when Cas smiled after each touch, it made Dean want to touch him more. It led to one of the most hands-on dates he’s ever had (outside of a bedroom), and it’s part of the reason he hasn’t been able to wipe the smile off of his face since.</p><p>Obviously, the other reason is that kiss. Again, he figured Cas wasn’t the kind of guy who slept around, but he never imagined that Cas had never been kissed at all. As soon as Cas told him, he worried for a fraction of a second that their kiss would be awkward as hell if Cas didn’t know what he was doing. But then he realized he had the opportunity to make Cas’s first kiss a <em> great </em> one, and he was definitely on board for that. Everybody remembers their first kiss, and he was bound and determined to do everything within his power to make sure that Cas always looked back at his with fondness. </p><p>It was such a sweet kiss. He still remembers how Cas’s lips went from rigid to pliant against his one fraction at a time, how he went from frozen in place to kissing Dean back like he’d been dying to do it all night, and how Cas opened up for Dean so perfectly that even thinking about it makes him ache. </p><p>Hell, everything aches. He’s pathetic. He can’t stop thinking about Cas, can’t stop going over their date in his head over and over, can’t stop picturing Cas laughing and blushing and remembering what it felt like to have Cas’s head on his shoulder. He can’t stop thinking of what they might do next weekend for their second date (trying not to wonder if he’ll get a second kiss) and how soon would be too soon to try to lock down a third.</p><p>He was too excited to fall asleep when he got home, so filled with a newfound sense of <em> this could be it </em> that he even texted his brother.<br/>
<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I just had the best date of my life<br/>
<b>SAM:</b> Ew, don’t text me about your sex life, jerk.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> It’s not like that. Think this might be something really good.<br/>
<b>SAM:</b> Are you serious?<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> As a heart attack<br/>
<b>SAM:</b> Didn’t think I’d see the day. I’m happy for you, man. </p><p>It had taken everything in Dean’s power not to text Cas that night. He wanted to check in, to make sure Cas still felt good about their date and their kiss after he left, that Cas wasn’t having second thoughts or feeling shaken up or anything. But he also didn’t want to crowd the guy. So he fought the urge to reach out and waited until the next day to text him.</p><p>Cas texted him back so fast he had to wonder if Cas had been waiting with his phone in his hand. Thinking that Cas was just as eager as Dean is to keep getting to know each other did absolutely nothing to stop him from getting his hopes up about their next date. </p><p>They talked off and on for most of Sunday. Cas told him repeatedly what a good time he had and that he had no idea what he was missing out on all these years until last night. He thanked Dean for being patient and understanding, and Dean made a silent vow to himself there and then that he would never do anything to make Cas feel anything <em> but </em> that when it came to them.</p><p>Dean went about his Sunday between texts, going shopping to restock his fridge, catching up on his laundry, and decluttering the living room so the movers wouldn’t have anything in their way to move in his furniture tomorrow. Jo texted him midafternoon and invited him for Sunday dinner at Ellen’s, so he spent his evening there both enjoying the company and ignoring Jo’s annoying pleas for more details about his date.</p><p>He told her it was awesome, that he and Cas got along really well and that they’d spent hours just talking and getting to know each other, but she wanted to know what they talked about and he realized he didn’t want to share. That was between him and Cas. Most of it wasn’t personal, but it was theirs, and he didn’t want any outsider point of view to change any of it. </p><p>Predictably, Jo wasn’t very happy about that. She literally followed him from the kitchen to the living room, whisper-yelling, “Stop being such a little bitch and tell me!” </p><p>Unfortunately, she was no longer quiet enough to get that past Ellen. “Language,” Ellen says sharply. “And tell you what?”</p><p>“Tell her something that’s none of her business,” Dean says pointedly, glaring in Jo’s direction while he takes a seat on the couch to place his plate of pie in his lap.</p><p>Clearly pandering to her audience, Jo turns to Ellen and says, “Dean went on a date with Castiel Milton last night.”</p><p>“Castiel Milton?” Ellen repeats. “Why does that name sound familiar?”</p><p>“That’s the one he was goo-goo-eyed over in high school,” Bobby grumbles, not even looking away from the television.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Dean says under his breath. He doesn’t get hell from Ellen, probably because Jo’s bark of laughter covered up his curse. “Did <em> everybody </em> know?” </p><p>“I don’t think Castiel did,” Jo says. </p><p>Dean knows that much, but still. How embarrassing.</p><p>“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Ellen says to Dean. “That ain’t a bad thing.”</p><p>“That Castiel is a good kid,” Bobby says. “Hard worker. Good head on his shoulders. You could do worse.”</p><p>Dean’s heart swells at what’s basically Bobby’s blessing, but he tries not to show just how pleased he is by it. The last thing he needs is for Jo to get her claws into any more information. “We only went on one date, so don’t go planning the wedding or anything.”</p><p>“He said — and I quote — it was ‘the best date of his life,’” Jo tells Bobby and Ellen.</p><p>Dean stabs his pie in annoyance, trying to come up with the bloodiest way possible to kill Sam the next time he sees him. He should’ve known better than to get all mushy with his jerk of a brother. He can just imagine the conversation Jo and Sam had about him this morning with what Jo knows about him running across the street last week and the text he sent Sam last night. Just goes to show what kind of euphoric state he must have been in at the time not to think far enough ahead to know it was gonna come back and bite him in the ass.</p><p>“Was bound to happen sooner or later,” Ellen tells him good-naturedly. He’s about to tell her he’s had plenty of good first dates when she continues, “Settlin’ down will be good for ya.”</p><p>
  <em> Settling down? </em>
</p><p>“Just don’t mess it up,” Bobby adds gruffly.</p><p>Dean huffs a nervous, uncomfortable laugh. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, you two. It was one date. Unlike some people,” he says with a pointed look in Jo’s direction, “I go on them all the time.”</p><p>Like he planned, that sets the two of them off on a long-winded argument that takes all of the heat off of his date with Cas. By the time he gets back home later that night, he feels like his head is less in the clouds than it has been for the rest of the day. He knows damn well that wasn’t Bobby and Ellen’s goal when they started talking about him settling down and not messing it up, but it made him realize he was putting an awful lot of stock in one good date.</p><p>He likes Cas — he <em> has </em> liked Cas for as long as he can remember — but it <em> was </em> only one date. He’s still optimistic that their second date will be just as good as the first, but he’s stopped thinking far-fetched thoughts about the best first date of his life leading to waking up with Cas in his bed every morning. Hell, for a second there, he’d even had the insane thought that Cas might be <em> it, </em> as if anybody could possibly go on one date and know that. His mind must’ve been more clouded than he thought from Cas in that sweater vest for his thoughts to go off in that direction so soon. </p><p>Thankfully, he’s got his head on straight when he climbs into bed Sunday night. It’s cool to be excited about the possibility of a couple dates with the guy he’s had a crush on since high school, but not so much to be thinking about how romantic it would be to live happily ever after so soon. There needs to be some middle ground in there somewhere, and thanks to his well-meaning, meddling family, he thinks he’s found it.</p><p>The last thing he does before bed is check his phone for any messages, and even with his head screwed on straight, he’s still pleased to see a text waiting from Cas.</p><p><b>CAS:</b> I thought you may be interested to know I’m setting out my clothes for tomorrow, and there are suspenders involved.<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> Never figured you for the dirty texting kinda guy, Cas.<br/>
<b>CAS:</b> Funnily enough, I was initially going to say that I find myself thinking about you when I get dressed now, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea 🙃</p><p>Dean’s laughing when the next text comes in.</p><p><b>CAS: </b> Now that I’ve successfully planted the seed of me in suspenders tomorrow, should I expect you to drop in?<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I go across the street to get coffee every day. I could swing by with some for you if you want?<br/>
<b>CAS:</b> Sounds like a great way to start the week 😊<br/>
<b>DEAN:</b> I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Night, Cas.<br/>
<b>CAS:</b> Sweet dreams.</p><p>Dean refuses to acknowledge that those two simple words have caused the middle ground he was so comfortable on a few minutes ago to disappear from beneath his feet. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The movers show up at ass o’clock on Monday morning, and it’s pandemonium for about two and a half hours before everything that was in his old place is in his new place, and all of his dad’s shit is hauled away. As soon as he’s left alone again and he takes a load off on his couch, he looks around and thinks about how funny it is that all it took for his dad’s house to feel like <em> his </em> house was his stuff.</p><p>He lives here now.</p><p>Might take a little while to get from feeling like he’s at his dad’s to feeling like he’s home, but he’ll get there. He remembers feeling the same way when he left for college, and again when he moved out of the dorms and into his own place. Changing his address doesn’t mean he’s home, and he knows that about himself enough to be satisfied with the contentment he feels with his feet kicked up on his favorite rocker-recliner. Yeah, he’ll get there.</p><p>He gives himself five minutes to catch his breath from all of the running around he’s done already today and then hauls ass out of his favorite chair and across the street to pick up the coffee he promised Cas. He sees the same bubbly blonde behind the counter who’s been there every day since he started showing up. It’s almost eleven, so most of the early crowd is gone and he has a chance to actually talk to her before placing his order.</p><p>“Don’t you ever get a day off?” he asks, making sure to smile enough that it comes out as friendly as he means it.</p><p>“Not with what they’re paying me,” she grumbles under her breath. Dean nods knowingly, and she flashes him a smile. “Coffee for ya, handsome?”</p><p>“Two please. One black and one with two sugar and two cream.”</p><p>“Got some company, do ya?” she teases.</p><p>“I wish,” he breathes. </p><p>“Oh, I hear ya,” she replies. Her tone of voice leads Dean to believe she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date.”</p><p>Disbelieving, Dean shakes his head. “This town is full of people with no taste, I swear to god.” She seems surprised by his comment, and he decides to let her know exactly what he thinks. “I’m already sweet on someone, so this isn’t a pick up line.” He waits for her to look at him, and then he says, “You’re beautiful.” The surprise on her face is exactly why he needed to say this. “You’re smart, you’re bubbly, you’re good at your job, and you always make me smile when I come in here. If people here can’t see that, that’s on them and has nothing to do with you, alright?”</p><p>She gapes at him for a few seconds before she seems to come back to herself. “Well aren’t you a charmer.”</p><p>He laughs. “I’m Dean.”</p><p>“Donna,” she replies. “And you just earned yourself a couple of coffees on the house,” she says, placing two paper cups down in front of him with a smile full of good humor.</p><p>“You don’t have to do that,” he starts.</p><p>“I was about to empty the pot and make a new one anyway,” she says, shrugging him off. </p><p>“Do you always give free coffee for compliments? Because I could go on,” he teases.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know,” she says, placing one hand on her hip. “This is the first time that’s happened, but you could try again and see.”</p><p>Their easy back and forth reminds him of his receptionist back home, and his smile grows as he considers doing something really, really stupid. “Have you ever worked in an office?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “No siree. I answer phones and take orders well enough, though. Why? You know somebody hiring?”</p><p>“You’re looking at him.”</p><p>Understandably, that catches her by surprise. <em> “You </em> want to hire me?”</p><p>He didn’t even realize how much until he heard it out loud. He’s always been a ‘go with your gut’ guy, and everything in him is screaming at him that Donna is the way to go for this. “Yeah, I do. I’m a physical therapist, and I’m reopening my practice just a few doors that way. Monday to Thursday, 9-5, Friday only until noon because I’m a lazy son of a bitch who likes a long weekend.” He stops long enough to flash her his most charming smile. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I think if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”</p><p>Dean nods. “That’s fair.” He digs into his wallet and pulls out one of his old cards to hand over. He knows he has a shot when she actually reaches out to take it. “Google me. Ask around town, see what you hear. I’m damn good at what I do, and I had a good thing going for me before I moved back. It’s going to be hard work to get us up and running to where I was, but with the right staff, I know I can do it. I think you might be a good fit for the kind of people I like working with, and something tells me you could use a break.” He reaches out to grab his coffee. “Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Have a good day, now.” </p><p>She sounds stunned and like she’s been reduced to the lowest form of her customer service persona, and Dean’s still grinning to himself by the time he pulls open the door to Milton’s Antique Toy Store. Cas looks up with a professional smile on his face that slips into an easy, more natural one so clearly meant for Dean and Dean only that he feels his heart skitter to a stop in his chest.</p><p><em> God, </em>he’s gorgeous. </p><p>“Mornin’, Cas,” Dean manages to say.</p><p>As Dean walks closer, he can see that Cas is in a crisp white button up with a yellow goddamn <em> pocket square, </em> and the suspenders he hinted about look like they're made out of thin, brown leather. When he gets close enough to place their coffee on the glass counter between them, he notices that the leather matches his belt and shoes <em> perfectly. </em> It confuses the fuck out of him how his body goes hot at the idea of nerdy and suave at the same time. Those two words shouldn’t go hand-in-hand but with Cas they somehow do, and he couldn’t be more into it. </p><p>“Dean?” Cas asks.</p><p>Cas’s tone of voice makes it clear that this isn’t the first time Cas has said his name, which makes him flush hard. “Sorry. Got lost thinking about the suspender/belt/shoe combo you got goin’ on. You look amazing.”</p><p>Apparently that’s enough to have Cas turning a little pink, too. “Thank you. And thank you for the coffee.”</p><p>“How’s your day going?”</p><p>“It was pretty quiet until now,” Cas answers. </p><p>“Not much traffic?”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “Mondays are typically pretty slow. I usually do paperwork. How about you?”</p><p>“Moving trucks came this morning. I paid out the ass for them to do all the heavy lifting and it was still exhausting making sure everything went where it was supposed to.”</p><p>“Big changes tend to leave people feeling worn out,” Cas says. </p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” he relents. “I’m not even working right now and I still haven’t had a second to just relax since I got here. Between moving shit from the garage to the basement so I could have somewhere to park my car, then going through all the shit in the basement to get rid of it, and then unpacking my own stuff, I feel like I’m running on empty. Longest break I had was sitting down and talking to you on Saturday.”</p><p>Cas smiles softly. “I enjoyed that.”</p><p>His heart leaps in his chest from that one simple sentence, and he allows himself a split second to wonder how he ever managed to convince himself that he isn’t already head over heels for this guy. Logic be damned — he is way, <em> way </em> too late for that.</p><p>He softens his voice a little and takes another step closer to the counter. “Been thinking about you a lot since then.”</p><p>“Me, too,” Cas says, sounding quietly awed. “I know I keep telling you, but I really had a wonderful time.”</p><p>“Well that’s good, because I might already be counting down the days to the weekend,” Dean confesses.</p><p>Cas smiles, then picks up his coffee and takes a sip. He makes a quiet sound of surprise in his throat, then swallows and looks back at Dean like he just saved a kitten from a house fire. “You remembered how I like my coffee.”</p><p>“Wasn’t a big deal,” Dean says lightly.</p><p>If it’s at all possible, Cas’s gaze softens even further. “Is it... customary to only date on the weekends?”</p><p>“Weekends are usually date nights, yeah, but people go out whenever works for them. There’s no rule or anything,” Dean says. “Why?”</p><p>“I was just thinking about how far away the weekend is.”</p><p>It sounds a hell of a lot like Cas wants to see him again before Friday. He’s obviously down for that, but he wants to be really, really sure that’s what Cas meant before he offers. The last thing he wants to do is to come on too strong and scare Cas away. Not when it’s this good between them.</p><p>“A little longer than you want to wait?” he asks carefully.</p><p>“I <em> can </em> wait until Friday. I would be happy to... if that’s what you want.”</p><p>Dammit, that wasn’t as clear as he was hoping for. “I’m kinda in the same boat,” he starts. “It’d be okay to see you again before the weekend.” Cas’s face falls, and Dean hears how that sounded. “Better than okay,” he fixes quickly. “It’d be good. Really good. As good as it could possibly be without you thinking that I’m coming on too strong and scaring you away. Unless…” <em> Shit. </em> “Unless that’s what I’m doing right now? If I am, that’s okay. I understand. It’s pretty fast. Hell, two weekends in a row is pretty fast on its own and here I am coming in with coffee and staring like a creeper, thinking about how hot you are and how much I like you, and—”</p><p>Cas reaches out across the counter and grips Dean’s hand, which was curled around the edge of the counter like a lifeline. “Breathe,” Cas commands him.</p><p>Dean does. He takes a big, lung-filling breath and lets it out slowly. “Thanks. Sorry, I tend to, uh—”</p><p>“Ramble when you get nervous,” Cas finishes for him. “I noticed. I would have stopped you sooner but I didn’t realize you had anything to be nervous about until I figured out where you went in your head. I thought I was being very clear, but I might not have been.” Dean just looks at him, waiting for him to keep going. “I would like to see you again before the weekend if it’s not too fast for you.”</p><p>“It’s not,” Dean says immediately. “I’d like that, too. A lot.”</p><p>Cas’s smile flashes. “Because you like me.”</p><p>Dean huffs slightly and rolls his eyes, embarrassed by Cas just saying it like that. For some reason, it makes him revert to his inner twelve-year-old, and he’s swimming in petulance when he says, “Yeah, so? You like me, too.”</p><p>“Yeah, so?” Cas says back in a perfect imitation of Dean. “You liked me first.”</p><p><em> That </em> makes him laugh loudly, and Cas’s laughter joining in is the sweetest fucking sound in the world. It erases most of his nerves, and when their laughter stops, Dean looks right in Cas’s eyes. “Can I cook you dinner Wednesday night?”</p><p>“Yes, please,” Cas answers, damn near radiating satisfaction.</p><p>“It’s a date,” Dean replies. Cas nods his agreement and Dean would pat himself on the back if he could. “Hell of a productive day so far.”</p><p>“And you didn’t even need the movers to help with me,” Cas jokes.</p><p>“Nah, I don’t share well,” Dean jokes back (although it’s true). “Though that kinda reminds me. Do you know Donna at The Coffee Shop a few doors down?”</p><p>Cas frowns. “Before I answer that, can you tell me how a woman at The Coffee Shop reminds you of not sharing well?”</p><p>Dean damn near chokes on his own tongue. “Oh my god, <em> so </em> not like that. I only got eyes for you, Cas.”</p><p>Cas seems to take him at face value. “In that case, I do know her, but just as the person who works there most days.”</p><p>“How long has she worked there?” Dean wonders.</p><p>“As long as I’ve been getting coffee. Why?”</p><p>“I want to hire her. She has a friendly smile and a bubbly personality, and that’s exactly the kinda person I want my clients to see when they walk through the door at Winchester Motion.”</p><p>Cas beams at him. “Is that what your place is called?”</p><p>“Yeah, I never mentioned that?” Cas shakes his head. “Oh. Well, yeah. Sign will be here next week and I’m hoping to be open the week after that. Three doors down from the coffee place.”</p><p>“Huh. Maybe I’ll let you help me with the ache in my lower back,” Cas says. </p><p>Immediately concerned, Dean asks, “Bad back?”</p><p>“Just from bending over the counter all the time.”</p><p>His mind very helpfully provides an image of Cas bent over the counter — <em> Nope. </em> Don’t go there. <em> Definitely </em>do not go there right now. “Right. Well, I’d be happy to check it for you. I won’t even charge you for a consultation,” he teases. “Plus, I’ve heard that I have magic hands.”</p><p>“I believe I’m familiar with that already.”</p><p>Dean coughs, loudly, and he feels his face catch on fire. Jesus Christ. He barely even got to touch Cas on their date, so why the hell is he blushing like he copped a feel in the shadows or something? He’s a grown man. He can talk about holding hands without <em> blushing.  </em></p><p>He’ll work on it. </p><p>“I’m glad you think so,” Dean finally says. “But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”</p><p>“There’s always Wednesday.”</p><p>Okay, there is no way Cas meant that to come out as suggestively as it sounded. Dean meant Cas hasn’t seen anything yet because he hasn’t examined him yet, not because... whatever the hell Cas wants him to do on Wednesday. Cas had never even been kissed before Saturday, <em> surely </em> he isn’t going to be looking to get touched in any kind of sexual way? He must mean holding hands again or snuggling or something. Honestly, being close to Cas at all was intoxicating, so he’s absolutely down for more of that or pretty much anything else Cas might ask for. </p><p>Before his mind goes down the forbidden path of being the one lucky enough to show Cas how good being with another person can be, he has <em> got </em> to get his head out of the gutter and go back to a safer topic of conversation. </p><p>“I almost forgot, have you made any progress on the Impala?” he asks. </p><p>“Actually, yes. I’m fairly certain I have the paint mixed to be identical to the actual Impala, but I’m going to do a test run on another diecast car to see how it looks on the metal before I paint the one I bought for you. I was thinking I would do that this afternoon, actually.” </p><p>Dean leans one elbow onto the glass counter between them. “So you’re sayin’ I should come by again tomorrow to check it out?” Dean asks, knowing full well that’s not what Cas was asking for. </p><p>Cas smiles like he’s got Dean’s number, and Dean can’t help it when his own smile grows before Cas even says a word. “It would put my mind at ease to have your approval before I actually paint.”</p><p>“Then I’ll swing by. Not like it’s a hardship to come see you face-to-face again.” </p><p>Cas mirrors his position, leaning on the counter tentatively and erasing most of the space between them. His voice is lower than it was before when he says, “I like when you come here, too. It gives me something to look forward to, and it’s often the highlight of my day.”</p><p>Once again, it strikes Dean just how <em> blue </em> Cas’s eyes are this close up, and paired with that hopeful, shy little smile of his, Dean’s a fucking goner. “You’re adorable, you know that?”</p><p>Cas smiles so wide his gums show, only further proving Dean’s point. “Why?”</p><p>“You just are,” Dean says lightly. “I could stand here and talk to you all damn day without getting tired of it.”</p><p>Cas surprises the hell out of him when he straightens his arm out and slips his hand under Dean’s. “I’d like to let you.”</p><p>It’s cheesy as fuck, but he goes with his gut and pulls Cas’s hand towards him so he can press a kiss to the back of it. </p><p>“Dean,” Cas breathes, his eyes and smile both so soft that it makes Dean’s insides melt like butter. </p><p>“I know, I know,” Dean says, acting hard done by as he guides their hands back down to the counter. “You’re at work, I shouldn’t be embarrassing you.”</p><p>“I wasn’t chastising you,” Cas explains. “Your name was just the only thing I could think of. It’s overwhelming — in a good way — when you make me feel like that.”</p><p>Curious, Dean asks, “Feel like what?” </p><p>“I don’t know how to put it into words.” His eyebrows draw together as he thinks, and Dean’s inexplicably fascinated by the little<em> w </em> that forms between them. “Special, almost. But also... warm,” Cas finally says. His hand rests flat on his chest as his eyes flick up to Dean’s. “In here. If that makes sense.”</p><p>Considering Dean’s feeling all kinds of warm himself, he knows exactly what Cas means. “Yeah, it makes sense. It’s, uh, sorta a two-way street, Cas.”</p><p>“You feel like that, too?” </p><p>“I wouldn’t have asked for a second date if I didn’t,” Dean says honestly.</p><p>“Technically that will be our third date now,” Cas jokes.</p><p>Laughing, Dean teases, “Three dates, huh? Sounds pretty serious.”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”</p><p>Before Dean can say anything else, the phone rings. “I have to get that. One second,” Cas says. “Milton Antique Toy Store, Castiel speaking. Can you hold please? Thank you.” He puts the phone on hold and then turns back to Dean. “I recognize the number, and this will be a while.”</p><p>“Guess I’ll get outta your hair then. But I’ll swing back around tomorrow, probably a little earlier in the day.”</p><p>“I look forward to it.” Then Cas does something he’s never seen Cas do before and bites down on his bottom lip to worry it between his teeth. Dean waits, knowing there’s a reason, and Cas doesn’t disappoint. “I suddenly hate the counter between us with a fiery passion.”</p><p>Dean snorts a laugh, but he isn’t letting something like a counter stop him from getting another kiss if Cas wants one. He surges forward more than halfway across, his feet dangling behind him, and Cas grins before he leans in and plants one straight on Dean’s lips. It’s nothing more than a peck, but Cas gets his (surprisingly large) hand on the side of Dean’s face and holds him there for just one more second, and then they break apart with a couple of smiles. </p><p>Cas is <em> beaming, </em> and it takes every ounce of control Dean has to grab his unfinished coffee and head for the door <em> . </em> “See ya tomorrow, Cas.”</p><p>“I can’t wait.”</p><p>That makes two of them.</p><p>
  
</p><p>The next day, as promised, Dean swings by The Coffee Shop to grab him and Cas a couple of coffees. As usual, he’s greeted by Donna.</p><p>“Good mornin’, stranger,” she says, as bubbly as always.</p><p>“Not until I get my coffee, it’s not,” Dean replies. “Two again today.”</p><p>“How <em> is </em> Castiel doin’?” she asks. </p><p>“Great! He’s — wait.” He never told her about Cas. </p><p>“You said to ask around town, and I did my homework,” Donna explains. “Rumor has it you and Castiel had <em> quite </em> the first date at the steakhouse this weekend, and I just so happen to know this is how Castiel takes his coffee.”</p><p>“Plenty of people take two cream and two sugar in their coffee,” Dean points out.</p><p>Donna doesn't bat an eyelash when she says, “But not all of them were your high school crush, captain of the football team.”</p><p>He has to give it to her, she really did do her homework. “So now that you’ve only heard good things about me—” She laughs outright at his suggestion, and yeah, they’re gonna get along just fine. “When can you start?”</p><p>She finishes fixing his coffees before she brings them over and answers. “That depends.”</p><p>“On?”</p><p>“Two things.”</p><p>“Name them,” he replies.</p><p>“When do you open?”</p><p>Well that’s an easy one. “Not this coming Monday, but the one after that.”</p><p>She nods. “How much are you paying?” </p><p>Dean does some quick mental math. Figuring she makes more than minimum wage since she’s been here so long (which is... what? $8 these days?), but also taking into account the fact that she works six days a week, he has to guess she doesn’t make a ton. He definitely wants to offer her more than what she’s making now, but he also doesn’t want to offer her so much that it cuts into his profits when he doesn’t know how many clients he’ll have at first.</p><p>“I’m gonna be straight with you, because I hope if I respect you as a potential employee, you'll respect me as a potential boss,” he starts. “I don’t know what business is going to be like here, but I did well where I was before I moved here. My receptionist was fan-freaking-tastic, and when I closed up, she was ballparking between 15-20 bucks an hour. I can’t offer you that right off the bat,” he says plainly. “But I can promise you that if you work hard and make our customers love you as much as the ones here do, I will get you there as soon as humanly possible.”</p><p>“How much?” she asks again.</p><p>“What’s it gonna take to get you to say yes?”</p><p>“Ten dollars an hour,” she decides.</p><p>“Deal. You make it six months, and I’ll bump it to twelve,” he offers.</p><p>He admires the way she doesn’t hesitate for a second before she holds her hand out for him to shake. He takes it with his grin still fully in place and gives it a solid shake. “I’ll draft up the paperwork and we can make it official.”</p><p>“When can I sign?”</p><p>“Can I bring it here?” She makes a face that lets him know she isn’t super pleased with the idea. “I live across the street. I know we don’t know each other well, but I promise I won’t lock you in the basement if you wanna stop by after your shift some day.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you try,” she laughs. “How about tomorrow?”</p><p>He winces. “I, uh, have a date tomorrow night.”</p><p>Her eyes light up with glee. “Second date so soon?”</p><p>“Maybe,” he dodges. “Thursday?”</p><p>“Can you email it to me before then so I know it’s a done deal? I want to give as much notice as I can, but I don’t want to jump ship if this is all talk,” she explains.</p><p>“I’m the <em> opposite </em> of all talk. Gimme your email.”</p><p>She writes down her email address for him, and he leaves with his coffee after promising to get her the paperwork by the end of the day. With Donna lined up to work for him and Cas with two scheduled dates on the horizon, he’s starting to feel like he’s getting his ducks in a row again, and it’s a damn good feeling.</p><p>
  
</p><p>His good mood holds through his visit with Cas (and another brief kiss goodbye that Cas comes around the counter for this time) and all through the next day. With the sporadic help of Jo, Ellen, and Bobby throughout the week, he’s almost through the boxes in the basement by Wednesday, and he has 90% of his own stuff unpacked and put away. The beef patties he made are chilling in the fridge, the fries are cut and blanching, and all of the fixings a man could ask for are chopped and ready to add to the best burgers in the world.</p><p><em> His </em> burgers.</p><p>It doesn’t surprise him in the least that Cas knocks on his door at 5:30 on the dot. That’s the time they agreed on, and Cas strikes him as a punctual kind of person. It <em> does </em> surprise him to see that Cas has a bouquet of flowers in his hands. What’s even more surprising is how genuinely touched he is by the gesture. </p><p>Words fail him, and he’s stuck staring Cas in the face, gaping like an idiot. </p><p>“Hello, Dean. These are for you.”</p><p>Dean swallows down the ridiculous lump in his throat and takes the flowers with a blush heating his cheeks. He doesn’t know much about flowers, but they look almost identical to the ones he got Cas, and they smell just as good.</p><p>“I’m actually speechless,” he admits. “Nobody’s ever given me flowers before.”</p><p>“I remember the feeling well,” Cas replies with his mouth quirked into a sideways smile. “I know I stole the idea from you, but if they bring you half as much happiness as mine have brought me, I’ll still consider it a win.”</p><p>“You’re—” Dean sighs happily, barely resisting the urge to bury his nose in his bouquet. “You’re awesome, Cas. Thank you.” Cas just beams at him, still standing just outside, which is when he realizes he forgot to invite Cas in. “Come in, shit. Sorry, I shoulda said that before.” In his haste to back up out of the way, he catches his heel on the mat in the entryway and stumbles backwards, only just catching himself by bracing a hand on the wall. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Cas asks, sounding concerned.</p><p>“Who, me?” Dean asks, his face burning as he tries to bullshit his way through not tripping like the walking embarrassment he is. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Better than fine. I’m great. Amazing, even,” he says all in one breath. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Cas tilts his head to the side, conveying his confusion in the most adorable way he’s ever seen, but evidently decides to let it go. “Want me to take your coat?”</p><p>“Your hands are kind of full with the flowers,” Cas points out, embarrassing Dean even further. Why would he offer to take Cas’s coat if he can’t fucking take it? “In the closet here, I’m assuming?”</p><p>“Y-yeah,” Dean says, already feeling like a massive idiot. As he watches Cas hang up his coat, he decides to just admit it and get it out into the open. “This is going well,” he deadpans.</p><p>He wouldn’t have thought so, but hearing Cas actually laugh makes him feel better. “Still the best second date I’ve ever had.”</p><p>“Now that’s just sad.”</p><p>Cas turns to face him, and Dean gets his first look at what Cas is wearing today. It’s not a plaid shirt and it’s not a sweater vest, it’s just a cozy-looking beige-colored, cable knit pull-over sweater. Definitely old-mannish, but Cas looks soft and adorable and Dean wants to scoop him up and tell him how perfect he is in between planting as many dozens of kisses to the top of his head as Cas will let him. </p><p>“Sorry there’s no suspenders this time,” Cas quips.</p><p>Dean huffs, embarrassed that he was so obviously checking Cas out. “No apologies necessary. I was just thinking how great you look. Very snuggleable.”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a word.”</p><p>“Well if it isn’t, it should be,” Dean says. “Lose the shoes and I’ll lead you to the kitchen so I can show off my cooking skills.”</p><p>“I’m looking forward to that.” Cas sounds like he means it, too, so Dean’s feeling a little bit better as he shows Cas the living room and then walks through it to the kitchen. “I know you just moved in, but I like what you’ve done so far.”</p><p>“Thanks. It’s a work in progress, but I’ve got nothing but time.” It’s his turn to try to find something to put the flowers in. Unlike Cas, he doesn’t have an old pitcher hanging around, and it takes him a few seconds of rifling through cupboards until he spots an old mason jar. “Bingo,” he says, turning to show Cas. “We’re probably ruining stereotypes, y’know.”</p><p>“Why’s that?” Cas wonders.</p><p>“I don’t know. Seems like for two non-straight guys, we should have at least one vase between us, but nope.”</p><p>Cas chuckles while Dean fills the jar with water. “I’ll buy one so we don’t let down the entire queer population.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit,” Dean chuckles. “I’ll make sure to supply flowers often enough to make it worth your while.”</p><p>“A nicer person wouldn’t hold you to that, but I’m going to.”</p><p>Feeling more at ease now, Dean places the mason jar full of flowers in the middle of the table. “There. Now we have a centerpiece.”</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p>“Are you hungry?” Dean checks.</p><p>“I could eat, but only if you’re ready.”</p><p>“Fun fact about me? I’m always ready to eat.” Cas smiles at him fondly, and Dean gets to work. “Nothing fancy tonight, just homemade burgers and fries.”</p><p>“That sounds great. Can I do anything to help?”</p><p>“Nope. Your only job is to sit and relax. In fact, can I get you a beer?”</p><p>“Are you having one?” Cas asks. </p><p>“Hell yeah. Beer and burgers go hand in hand.”</p><p>“Then yes.”</p><p>Dean gets Cas his beer and then starts cooking. They keep up a steady conversation, talking about everything and nothing while Dean prepares their dinner. Everything goes to plan, and in no time, he has some perfectly cooked burgers and fries, and he and Cas are standing side-by-side at the counter putting on their toppings. </p><p>Once their food is prepared the way they like it, they sit at the table and dig in. Cas’s first bite of his burger earns him a hum of approval, and as soon as Cas swallows, the kind of praise that leaves Dean preening like a damn peacock for the rest of their meal. Just like on Saturday, it’s easy to talk to Cas. They talk about food tonight, all of their favorite restaurants in town and out of town, their favorite breakfast place, the best coffee, the best desserts, and the list goes on and on. Their tastes align a lot of the time, though apparently Dean’s gotta give Cas’s breakfast place a try.</p><p>That absolutely does not inspire thoughts of waking up in bed next to a messy-haired Cas on a Sunday morning and offering to buy him breakfast. (But maybe in the fantasy he’s definitely <em> not </em> thinking about, they don’t make it out of bed until much closer to lunch than breakfast.) </p><p>Dean clears his throat and grabs his beer to take a swig, which is when he realizes his bottle is empty. He stands to get himself a second one, then notices Cas’s is almost gone, too.</p><p>“You want another beer?” Dean checks.</p><p>“Sure, thank you.”</p><p>Dean grabs two and pops the tops off, then turns back to him. “Wanna move into the living room?” Cas agrees by pushing his seat back and following him to the couch. “The best seat in the house is my recliner, if you want it,” Dean offers.</p><p>“That’s tempting, but I think I’d rather sit with you.”</p><p>“Now <em> I know </em> you like me,” Dean teases as they sit.</p><p>“Wasn’t it already obvious?” Cas asks.</p><p>Dean feels his insides warm almost as quickly as his cheeks. “I was just bugging you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Dean passes Cas his beer, and because Cas is looking at him expectantly, he says, “To second dates,” before he taps their bottles together. The cool liquid flows into his mouth and he’s just about to swallow when he notices Cas has <em> elbow patches </em> on his sweater. He must have missed them before because of the table, and the sight is so unexpectedly <em> hot, </em> he chokes a little on the beer only halfway down his throat.</p><p>Cas looks at him, visibly alarmed, so he holds up one finger and turns his head to cough into his elbow <em> (oh god, </em> don’t think about elbows. Elbows = elbow patches and with his luck, he’ll manage to impale himself on his beer bottle if he entertains another thought about them) to clear his throat.</p><p>Now able to breathe but suitably embarrassed by choking on his drink like a moron, Dean turns back to Cas. “Sorry, wrong pipe.” As Cas nods his understanding, Dean can’t help but bring them up. “So elbow patches, huh?”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Cas asks.</p><p>“On your sweater. You’ve got some, uh, elbow patches.”</p><p>Cas’s free hand moves to his elbow. “Oh. I guess I do.”</p><p>“They’re hot,” Dean blurts.</p><p>Cas’s eyebrows shoot up. “They are?”</p><p>Head bobbing, Dean explains, “Right up there with suspenders and sweater vests.” Then, feeling brave, he adds, “Even hotter on you.”</p><p>“You think I’m hot.” </p><p>Cas doesn’t say it like a question, but like a statement he’s rolling around in his brain, trying to figure out how it fits with everything else he knows. Dean confirms it anyway. “Unfairly hot.”</p><p>The little frown between Cas’s eyebrows disappears as he looks Dean right in the face. “I think you’re hot, too.”</p><p>It feels like a lightning bolt hits him right between legs, making his dick twitch and fill alarmingly fast. He’s suddenly very aware of Cas’s thigh pressed against his and the way their shoulders are touching. He hasn’t kissed Cas yet tonight, and based on how the air between them is charging more by the second, he’s not the only one thinking that. </p><p>Cas’s eyes drop from holding Dean’s to his mouth, and that’s a green light if Dean’s ever seen one, so he slowly leans in. Cas meets him halfway with a hand resting on Dean’s chest. Cas’s eyes slip closed a split second before Dean’s, and then Dean’s got Cas’s perfectly pink lips pressed firmly to his own. Cas’s mouth is open just a touch, and as their lips move together and begin to slicken, Dean feels desire building inside of him. He doesn’t want to push for too much too fast, but he’s <em> dying </em> to get past the taste of beer to get his first hit of <em> Cas. </em></p><p>Wanting to test the waters, he sneaks his tongue past his lips just far enough to tease at Cas’s bottom lip. Cas freezes for a split second, but then his mouth opens further, and heat suffuses Dean from head-to-toe in an instant. He wants to take the permission Cas just granted him and surge forward to use every trick he’s ever learned to turn Cas into a trembling, panting mess, but instead, he goes slow. He starts by kissing Cas a little harder, a little wetter, and when Cas seems comfortable enough that Dean can tell he isn’t overthinking it anymore, he slips his tongue past the seam of Cas’s lips and touches just the tip of it to Cas’s.</p><p>Cas’s tongue pushes back against Dean’s before Dean’s even prepared himself for the possibility, and when Dean feels Cas’s fingers tighten in his shirt and pull him even closer, Dean stops holding back. He kisses Cas properly now, thrilled beyond belief when Cas mimics every flick and swish of his tongue before he initiates some of his own, and <em> holy fucking shit, </em>he is making out with Castiel Milton!</p><p>Cas tilts his head and thrusts his tongue more forcefully into his mouth, and Dean reacts without thinking, curling his tongue around the tip of Cas’s and drawing a deliciously sexy sound from Cas’s throat that he knows he’s going to hear echoes of every time he wraps a hand around himself in the shower. The very thought inspires his dick to perk up, and he knows his body well enough to know he’s only seconds away from being fully hard and the possibility of making Cas very, very uncomfortable. He needs to slow this down, he knows he needs to stop, but Cas lets out another low moan and Dean sucks gently on the tip of Cas’s tongue and —</p><p>He gasps and wrenches his lips away when something very cold and very wet pours into his lap.</p><p>Even with Cas’s beer bottle tipped over, it takes a second for his brain to piece together that Cas has spilled his beer directly on Dean’s crotch. Apparently, it also takes Cas that same second, but then they both leap into action at the same time.</p><p>“Dean!” Cas exclaims. “Oh my god, I’m <em> so </em>sorry!”</p><p>Dean jumps off of the couch and places his beer on the coffee table in front of them. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Cas sets his mostly empty bottle on the table too, apologizing the whole time as Dean stands there like an idiot with cold beer seeping into his pants. </p><p>His brain and body are suffering from extreme whiplash, and apparently that means he can’t come up with a decent course of action for what the hell he’s supposed to do next. Cas doesn’t seem to have the same problem, because the next thing Dean knows, Cas is moving Dean’s shirt out of the way and reaching for the button on Dean’s fly.</p><p>His jaw drops and his mouth hangs open as heat spikes low in his belly when Cas flips the button and lowers the zipper. Finally, Dean’s brain kicks into gear and his mouth remembers how to form words. </p><p>“Wh-what are you doing?” Dean croaks.</p><p>“Taking your pants off.”</p><p>There is not enough cold beer <em> in the world </em> to stop Dean’s cock from standing at attention after hearing Cas say that. Dean’s hands dart out to wrap his fingers around Cas’s wrists, stopping him just as his zipper goes down as far as it can. Cas looks up at him, face red, eyes wide and frantic, and those perfect pink lips of his swollen from their kissing, and Dean has never wanted anybody so bad in his fucking <em> life. </em></p><p>“Not th-that I’m against the idea,” Dean stutters <em> (god, </em> his eyes are gorgeous), “but after making out with you and you putting your hands on my fucking fly, you’re about to see a part of me I’m pretty sure you’re not ready for on the second date.”</p><p>Cas’s eyes go even wider and he rips his hands away like he’s been burned. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t — I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to help, not... not trying to cop a feel.”</p><p>Dean tries to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up from hearing Cas say both “fuck” and “cop a feel” in the same sentence — two things he’s never heard Cas say before — but it escapes him anyway. To his relief, Cas’s lips quirk, too, and the next thing he knows, they’re both absolutely cracking up. He’s never seen Cas laugh so hard before, and yeah, Dean currently has beer-flavored pubes, but it’s definitely worth it to see the way Cas’s nose scrunches up and his gums show above his teeth. </p><p>They’re still smiling when the laughter dies, and Dean steps into Cas’s space to place a sweet little kiss to his lips to make sure Cas knows he’s not mad or anything. “I’m gonna go change out of these pants. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”</p><p>“I’ll deal with what spilled onto the couch,” Cas offers.</p><p>“You don’t have to do that.”</p><p>“It’s the least I can do,” Cas argues.</p><p>Dean figures he’d probably want to do the same if the situation was reversed, so he nods his okay and heads to his room to switch out his jeans and boxers. It becomes immediately apparent that he’s gonna need a little wipe down, so he wets a cloth in the bedroom to take care of that and figures that’ll do for now, but he’ll <em> definitely </em> need a shower before he goes to bed tonight. With that taken care of, he steps into a different pair of jeans and heads back out to the living room.</p><p>Cas is sitting where he was before, there are two new bottles of beer on the coffee table, and there’s not a drop of beer visible on the couch. “How long was I gone?” Dean asks.</p><p>Cas smiles warmly. “Not too long. I hurried.”</p><p>“You didn’t need to, but thanks for mopping that up.”</p><p>He sits next to Cas, feeling nervous now that they went from making out to being interrupted in such a big way. He’s not totally sure how or where to try to draw a bridge from before until now, but he’s pretty much decided to ask Cas about his day when Cas beats him to it.</p><p>“I’m really, really sorry,” Cas says again.</p><p>“Cas, it’s fine. I swear.”</p><p>“Sadly, it’s not unusual for me to spill things, but spilling on somebody else is new for me.”</p><p>“In that case, I’m honored,” Dean jokes.</p><p>Cas laughs, but shakes his head. “I’m so embarrassed.”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal. It’ll be a hell of a story one day, right?”</p><p>Pouting a little, Cas says, “Only because it makes you look good.”</p><p>Dean got a lapful of beer and a sticky crotch. “How do you figure?”</p><p>“You kissed me so well that I forgot to hold onto my drink.”</p><p>Dean can’t help the grin that spreads then. He kissed Cas stupid. He hadn’t been thinking about it like that, but now that Cas mentioned it, that’s a hell of an accomplishment. “Well, when you put it like that,” Dean concedes. Cas laughs a little, and it makes some of his nerves ease up. “I, uh, didn’t mean to get so carried away.”</p><p>“Was that carried away?” Cas asks, tilting his head. “Kissing on the couch?”</p><p>“Uhm.” Dean swallows. Hard. Why did he bring this up? “Well. N-not really, I guess. I just don’t really know what you’re comfortable with.”</p><p>“Dean,” Cas says patiently. “Do you remember how eager you were to kiss or touch a guy back in high school?” </p><p>The constant urge to have sex or get off was like an itch that was never sufficiently scratched until he got into his twenties, no matter how much sex he had or how many orgasms he could wring out of himself. “Yeah.”</p><p>“You were my first kiss,” Cas says plainly. “I still feel that way.”</p><p>It takes a second for him to put the end of that sentence together with the one before that. <em> Do you remember how eager you were to kiss or touch a guy back in high school? I still feel that way. </em> Cas is still in the dying to know what sex feels like place in his life, and — in Cas’s own words — he’s eager to find out.</p><p>Okay.</p><p>Holy shit.</p><p>Dean says the first thing that comes to mind. “So <em> that’s </em> why you were trying to get me out of my pants.” </p><p>Thankfully, Cas barks a laugh. “It wasn’t a premeditated move on my part, but if I had thought about it in advance...” Cas trails off and ends that sentence with a shrug.</p><p>It sounds like Cas is saying he would <em> like </em> to get Dean out of his pants, but that can’t be it. Cas is a virgin. He’s not gonna wanna go from zero to sixty in two dates. <em> Although, </em> his brain whispers, <em> you wouldn’t have minded a pretty girl putting out a couple of dates in back when you were a virgin. </em> Hell, he still doesn’t if he’s into the person now, and he’s <em> really </em> into Cas. Cas is really into him, too, if what Dean’s thinking is right.</p><p>Because now that Cas has sorta mentioned this, Cas had been the one to ask about their first kiss. Cas had been the one to bring it up the next time Dean saw him at the toy store. He’d been the one to open his mouth to invite Dean in for a deeper kiss tonight, and he’d been the one to pull Dean in for more after that. Cas knows what he wants.</p><p>Maybe Cas wants in his pants, after all.</p><p>“I’m crazy about you,” he tells Cas. Cas looks surprised, but pleasantly so. “And I think you’re hot as fuck and there ain’t a single inch of you I don’t wanna get my hands on. So we’ll go at your pace, okay? You just let me know what you’re comfortable with.”</p><p>“I will,” Cas says, smiling at him warmly. “Thank you.”</p><p>Dean reaches over to slip his hand into Cas’s, pleased to see Cas’s smile gets twice as warm as it was a second ago. “Do you want to watch a movie?”</p><p>“Can you put your arm around me like you did at my place?”</p><p>Jesus, if Cas were any cuter, he might actually melt into the couch. “Only if you put your head on my shoulder again.”</p><p>Cas lights up like he just won the lottery. “Deal.”</p><p>Even though they’ve both already seen it, they decide on <em> You’ve Got Mail. </em> They go between watching and talking about the movie to making out and then back to the movie, and return to kissing some more. When the movie ends and Cas says he should go home, they stand at Dean’s door for ages with their lips locked and tongues tangled but their hands firmly in place — Dean’s on Cas’s hips and Cas’s wound around his neck.</p><p>Finally, Cas opens the door and takes a step back. He looks every bit as wrecked and unbearably horny as Dean feels when he says, “Saturday?”</p><p>
  <em> Any day. </em>
</p><p>“Already counting down the hours, sweetheart,” Dean says honestly.</p><p>The smile he gets from Cas for that is the cherry on the second consecutive best date of his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kissing is very, very good, Castiel has discovered.</p><p><em> “Oh god.” </em> Castiel’s eyes roll back into his head when Dean’s mouth latches onto his collarbone and sucks. “Oh Dean, right there,” Cas murmurs. </p><p>Dean hums against his skin, sending vibrations up his throat. Dean’s mouth — his lips, tongue, and teeth — is like magic, honing in on every sensitive inch on Castiel’s skin from the shoulders up and then working them one at a time until Castiel is nothing more than a desperate, writhing mess. Dean has a solid grip on his hips, and he’s using it to either hold Castiel still or keep their groins from lining up. Either way, Dean’s fingers are maddening there, inches away from where Castiel really wants them but close enough to the general area to have heat coursing through him like lava.</p><p><em> God, </em> he didn’t know he could <em> want </em> like this, with his skin buzzing and his cock aching under the weight of another man on top of him. If there was ever even a sliver of doubt, he knows now he’s really, <em> really </em> attracted to men. He shoves his hands up the back of Dean’s shirt and flattens his palms against the rippling muscles of Dean’s back. His skin is smooth but he’s strong and brawny and <em> god, </em> Castiel is <em> so </em> gay. Dean’s lips travel up his neck, sending sparks of desire between his legs on their journey before skating over his jaw and catching his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.</p><p>Oh yes. Kissing is very, <em> very </em> good.</p><p>He gives it his all, trying to match every flick of Dean’s tongue with his own as his hands roam Dean’s torso. He feels his way up Dean’s back and onto his shoulders, groaning when the swell of Dean’s biceps make his hips rock up into the friction above him. It causes his cock to rub against the crease of Dean’s hip and it feels so good that he does it again, groaning a second time as his weeping cockhead catches on the soggy material of his boxers.</p><p>“Okay, hang on,” Dean breathes, nipping at his lips. “We’re getting pretty heated here. You wanna slow down, sweetheart?”</p><p>“No, don’t stop.” The idea of slowing down or stopping is unfathomable to him right now. He’s never wanted anything more than to keep going, to keep <em> feeling, </em> to keep experiencing his heart racing like this and his body responding to Dean’s every touch. “I—I want...” He doesn’t even <em> know </em> what he wants, but he knows this is unbelievable all on its own. “Just keep going. I want you, Dean.”</p><p>Dean’s moan cuts off halfway through because it’s such an incredibly sexy sound that Castiel surges upwards to seal his lips to Dean’s. Dean kisses him hard, pressing him back down onto the couch and gently humping against Castiel’s hip. Castiel meets the next roll of Dean’s hips with one of his own and discovers paradise. It feels <em> amazing, </em>unbelievably good, and gets even better when Dean’s hands guide him into a slow, dirty grind as satisfying as the slide of their spit-slick lips. They move together flawlessly, a luxurious but gratuitous rolling pace, making Castiel pant into Dean’s mouth and shudder beneath him as he gets closer and closer to the edge.</p><p>“Cas?” Dean whispers against his lips.</p><p>“Mmph?” Cas manages.</p><p>Dean’s lips trail back towards his ear, and when he speaks, his voice is nothing more than a husky whisper. “Want me to suck your cock?”</p><p>He considers it a miracle that he doesn’t come right then and there.</p><p>The heat that races through him is <em> scalding, </em> and as much as the answer to Dean’s question is an enthusiastic, resounding <em> yes, </em> Castiel knows he’s never going to make it long enough to enjoy what Dean’s offering. </p><p>“N-next time,” Castiel gasps, rolling his hips up and into Dean harder now. Faster. “I’m g-gonna—”</p><p>Dean cuts him off with a sharp, stinging kiss, deep and dirty and so incendiary that Castiel wonders how they haven’t burst into flames yet. Another harder thrust throws him off course, his hips stuttering to the side and accidentally but <em> fabulously </em> lining his cock up against Dean’s. His mouth goes slack, he hears Dean curse a breathless-sounding, <em> “Fuck, Cas,” </em> and then the glorious sensation of Dean’s hard cock sliding alongside his. </p><p>He sees stars, feels fire, and dives into it without reservation. He throws his head back from the intensity of his pleasure and when Dean’s lips find that same spot on his collarbone a second time, fireworks explode behind his closed eyelids. He fits his palms to the tantalizing swell of Dean’s ass, dragging Dean in against him impossibly closer, and Castiel makes it a measly three thrusts before heat flashes like an inferno from head-to-toe and he’s locking up and coming harder than he’s ever come before, directly into his boxer shorts.</p><p>It feels like it lasts and lasts, like each wave of pressure is stronger and more powerful than the one before it until finally it begins to ebb away. His head is spinning and his hearing is fuzzy, but they clear just in time to appreciate Dean’s face pressed into the curve of his neck where Dean shudders and grunts his way through his own orgasm. </p><p>
  <em> He just gave Dean an orgasm. </em>
</p><p>Dean’s hips slowly come to a stop and he slumps on top of Castiel, going boneless and pinning him down with Dean’s weight. It’s not an unpleasant place to be, he soon realizes. His boxers feel fairly disgusting, but the rest of it is the kind of good he was starting to think he’d never experience, so he stays like that for what feels like a long time, stroking down Dean’s back as Dean breathes into his neck. Some time later, Dean pops his head up and props it on his hand.  His face is red and sweaty, but he has the most gorgeously <em> relaxed </em> look on his face that makes Castiel wonder how long he has to wait to kiss it again.</p><p>“How you doin’?” Dean asks him.</p><p>He doesn’t understand the uncertainty creeping into Dean’s green eyes at first. It must have been obvious how much Castiel enjoyed himself — the evidence is literally between them. And then it clicks: this is Dean checking in to make sure Castiel doesn’t have any regrets about what just happened between them. It’s sweet, actually. Especially given that Castiel had been <em> quite </em> persistent to get them into this position to begin with. </p><p>“Only the best I’ve ever been,” Castiel says honestly.</p><p>Dean’s smile is like the sun: bright and warm and beautifully blinding in its intensity. “Me too.”</p><p>Castiel huffs a laugh. He appreciates the sentiment, but he’s well aware that Dean must have had plenty of more exciting sexual encounters. “I’m sure.”</p><p>“No, for real,” Dean assures him. “That was uh —” He chuckles, sounding almost proud. “That was really something, Cas.”</p><p>Well, genuine or not, it certainly feels good to hear. “The mess in my pants is something, too,” Castiel deadpans. Dean nods knowingly and laughs in response. “I have some sweats you can borrow if you’d like.”</p><p>“That would be great, actually.”</p><p>“Get off and we can go get them,” Castiel suggests.</p><p>“Get off again, you mean,” Dean quips, wiggling his eyebrows as he pushes off entirely. “‘Cause we did once already. Together.”</p><p>Castiel arches an eyebrow in his direction as they stand. “I didn’t realize <em> again </em> was an option.”</p><p>Dean’s smile wobbles, but only for a second before it’s back twice as enticing as before. “Gimme about a half hour and I’ll see what I can do.”</p><p>“Good come back,” Castiel teases, heading into the bedroom.</p><p>“That’s what she said,” Dean jokes. “No wait. That doesn’t really work. Whatever.” Castiel walks into his bedroom, but Dean stops in the doorway and leans against the doorframe, looking so carelessly sexy and deliciously <em> rumpled </em> that Castiel could weep just looking at him. “Gotta say, there was no part of me that thought I’d be standing here like this a week after our first date.”</p><p>“You thought I’d wait longer than the three-date rule to put out?” Castiel asks, tongue-in-cheek.</p><p>Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, kinda.”</p><p>“I admire your honesty,” Castiel says, smiling. “But I never intended to make you wait.” </p><p>He opens a drawer and tugs out two pairs of sweatpants, one grey and one black. Dean takes the grey ones, and before Castiel can offer for Dean to go change in the bathroom if he wants, Dean drops his pants and boxers where he stands. Castiel’s jaw drops with them when he gets an eyeful of a still plump but softening cock hanging between Dean’s legs, and he looks away with his face on fire. “Jesus, sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize,” Dean says, laughing a little. “I wouldn’t have just stripped in front of you if it wasn’t okay to check out the goods.”</p><p>That makes sense, but it isn’t easy to ignore years of always having to avert his eyes at the sight of naked flesh. The forbidden feeling slowly fades away, and when he finally has the courage to look at Dean standing half naked in front of him, he sees Dean giving his junk a perfunctory wipe down with his already soiled underwear. It feels bizarrely intimate to watch Dean taking care of himself like this, but Dean seems completely at ease. It makes him wonder just how many people Dean’s been naked in front of <em> (a lot, probably, </em> his unhelpful brain supplies for him) when Dean tosses his boxers on top of his wrecked jeans and steps into Castiel’s sweatpants.</p><p>All thoughts of other people Dean’s been with go flying from his mind when a surprisingly strong punch of heat hits him from the picture of Dean in his clothes. He doesn’t even understand his body’s reaction, but it’s undeniable enough that he seriously contemplates just how fast he could get it up again with Dean around. Dean’s extremely arousing, and Castiel’s confident it wouldn’t take long at all. He hopes he gets to figure that out one day.</p><p>“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Dean asks.</p><p>Because he’s still stuck in his thoughts, Castiel has no idea what Dean’s talking about. “What?”</p><p>“So you can change?”</p><p>“Oh.” That might be nice, actually. He’s not ashamed of his body, but he’s also not used to showing anybody. “Yes please. I’ll be right out.”</p><p>Dean points to his pants on the floor. “Should I, uh...?”</p><p>“I’ll wash them,” Castiel offers. </p><p>Dean thanks him and heads out of the bedroom and down the hall. Castiel does what Dean did and uses his boxers to clean himself off the best he could, but he opts for a new pair of boxers rather than go bare like Dean did. He should probably try not thinking about that, though, because he knows his body will react and the last thing he wants is for Dean to think Castiel is only interested in him for sex.</p><p>Sex would be nice and he’s definitely interested in seeing what all the fuss is about, but he’s waited almost thirty years. He can wait a little longer.</p><p>Pushing that thought far out of his mind, he walks back out to the living room to rejoin Dean on the couch. Dean pulls him in with an arm around him as soon as he sits, and Castiel leans his head onto his shoulder. Even though it’s no longer hormones driving him to be closer to Dean, it feels no less wonderful cuddling together. </p><p>“Still crazy about you, you know,” Dean says, almost like it’s a reminder. </p><p>Thinking of what Dean said to him before, he uses those words to tell Dean he feels the same way. “Still a two-way street. Um, do you want to listen to some music?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’d be great.”</p><p>Since he knows Dean’s taste in music thanks to last weekend, he puts on an old Led Zeppelin record of his dad’s, and the smile on Dean’s face is absolutely worth the time it took digging through boxes to find it earlier this week. They listen to it in silence for a little while before Dean mentions his parents. Castiel doesn’t understand the change of topic until Dean tells him how his mom had wooed his dad by knowing all the lyrics to Zeppelin songs, then stops to comment on how weird it was that they both find the same thing hot in significant others.</p><p>“Probably best not to linger on that,” Castiel teases him.</p><p>The conversation circles around and then inevitably leads to how their parents died, which is a very deep, very personal conversation that leaves Castiel feeling closer to Dean with every word exchanged. Dean’s mom died in a fire and his dad from stubbornness and hate, it sounds like. Castiel tells Dean how he lost his mother in a car crash and his dad from a heart attack. Dean talks about finding refuge with his little brother and building his own family, and Castiel wonders what it must be like to have friends who love you that much.</p><p>“That reminds me,” Castiel says suddenly. “I met your friend Jo yesterday.”</p><p>Dean blinks at him for a second. “I’m sorry, you what?”</p><p>“Met Jo,” Castiel repeats. “She came into the store yesterday afternoon. She didn’t introduce herself at first but I realized I recognized her from The Roadhouse, so I put two and two together.”</p><p>“What was she doing there?”</p><p>“Oh, just browsing, I suppose,” Castiel replies. Truthfully, she didn’t seem to be looking for any one thing, and she didn’t settle on anything enough to actually buy it, so he really isn’t sure. </p><p>“Yeah, that sounds like Jo, alright,” Dean says sarcastically. “Did she ask about me?”</p><p>“Sort of. She asked how things were going between us. She also told me how long you’ve had a crush on me,” he teases gently. “She seemed genuinely disappointed to hear I already knew all about high school.”</p><p>“That’s what she gets for being a little sneak,” Dean says. “I can’t believe she went in there to spy on you! Well, actually,” he seems to rethink. “I can, which might be even worse.”</p><p>“You don’t think she was there to browse,” Castiel realizes.</p><p>“I’d be willing to bet on it.”</p><p>Castiel sits with it for a few seconds, but finds he’s not at all insulted by that. “I don’t really mind. It’s natural to be curious.”</p><p>“It is?” Dean questions.</p><p>“Sure. And we’ve been spending a lot of time with each other, so she probably just wanted to get a feel for me as a person to make sure I’m not going to hurt you or something.”</p><p>“Or — and I hate to burst your bubble, Cas, but this is a lot more likely — she was checking for hickies to report back to Sam.”</p><p>Castiel grins, thinking about the tender spot Dean sucked into his collarbone. “She was a day too early for that.”</p><p>“Good thing you keep yourself all buttoned up, huh?” </p><p>“I don’t know. I might have to wear something more revealing just to show it off a little,” Castiel muses. “I’ve never had a hickey before.”</p><p>“Your body, your rules,” Dean says with a smile. “But you know how fast gossip travels around here, right?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“By Tuesday last week everybody in town knew I took you out on the weekend, and I’m sure the news of a second public date is already spreading since it was one of Jody’s girls who was working at the pizza joint tonight.”</p><p>Castiel mulls that around for a minute, but he finds he doesn’t really mind if the whole town knows he’s going out with Dean. Dean’s a good man, and he’s lucky to be associated with him. “That doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”</p><p>Dean shrugs. “I knew what I was getting into when I moved back. In my experience, it only gets <em> really </em> weird when we break up.”</p><p>“When we break up?” Castiel repeats. </p><p>It’s foolish, he realizes now, but he never really thought about the possibility. He knows on some level that relationships don’t always work out, that he’s not even Dean’s boyfriend yet and he might not even get that far, but he never considered that he could lose this just as fast as he found it. He never saw Dean coming. He was content and comfortable with his life before Dean walked into his store and upended everything, but now that he’s experienced actual happiness — now that he’s laughed and snuggled and kissed and fooled around with Dean — he knows there’s no going back to being content without it.</p><p>He’d be unbearably lonely. He’s sure of it.</p><p>“Right. W-well,” Dean fumbles. “We’re dating, so there’s really only two ways this can go. We break up or we, y’know, get hitched. Someday. Not now, obviously,” Dean says, laughing nervously. “Way, way into the future. Years from now. Decades, even. Or. Or, I don’t know, maybe you’re not into the idea of exchanging ‘I dos’ at all and we just do the common-law thing. Again, not today or anything, but uh. Maybe someday. Maybe. If we don’t break up. Not that I think—”</p><p>Amused by Dean’s rambling, Castiel asks, “How long do you think you’d keep going if I didn’t stop you?”</p><p>Dean lets out a deep, deep sigh. “I don’t think either of us wants the answer to that question.”</p><p>“Are you breaking up with me?”</p><p>“God no,” Dean says quickly.</p><p>“And are you proposing marriage — either traditionally or common-law?”</p><p><em> “What?” </em>Dean squeaks. “No! I—I mean, I like you, but—”</p><p>“And I like you, too,” Castiel replies, cutting him off before he can devolve into another stilted but long-winded speech. “I don’t want to break up or get married today either, so it looks like we’re both on the same page. Nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Right,” Dean says, punctuating that with a nod. “Remind me to never bring either of those possibilities up ever again.”</p><p>Castiel chuckles. “Something tells me you’re not going to need a reminder.”</p><p>“I’ll be avoiding those subjects like landmines,” Dean agrees with a laugh of his own.</p><p>“It does prompt a topic of conversation we’ve yet to breach though,” Castiel says. “Relationships. How are you still single?”</p><p>Dean leans in and kisses him on the temple. “We’re goin’ there, huh?”</p><p>“I’m just wondering what set of divine circumstances lead to<em> you </em> being single on the day you stepped into my store for the first time?”</p><p>Dean lets out a quiet hum of contemplation. “I could give you the same heap of shit I’ve been telling my dates since the first one who asked, or I could tell you the actual truth.”</p><p>“I want both,” Castiel decides.</p><p>Dean chuckles. “Alright. Well, I usually tell people it’s because I haven’t found the right person yet. I’ve had fun along the way and found a couple of people I thought <em> might’ve </em> been the one, but it just never worked out. Timing, moving, work, wanting different things. There’s a million reasons why nobody felt really right, you know?”</p><p>Castiel can understand that. “Okay. And what’s the actual reason?”</p><p>“My dad,” Dean says quietly. “He didn’t want me to like guys, so I knew I couldn’t really date any without it inevitably leading to the ‘I want to meet your dad’ conversation.”</p><p>“Because it could never come to fruition,” Castiel realizes.</p><p>“Exactly. And while I’m definitely into girls, I just... I dunno. I guess a part of me didn’t want to settle down with one without knowing how it felt to date a guy, too.”</p><p>Castiel has only ever been attracted to the same sex, but that seems perfectly logical to him. “And I’m the first guy you’ve really dated.”</p><p>“Yup,” Dean confirms.</p><p>“So?” Castiel wonders. “How is it?”</p><p>Dean smiles softly. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re a guy,” he starts, moving in for a quick kiss to Castiel’s lips. “Or just because you’re you.” Castiel gets another longer, more substantial kiss this time, and his fingers are already clinging to the soft fabric of Dean’s Henley to try to keep him closer when Dean’s lips pull away enough to finish speaking. “But I think I get why it never felt right before.”</p><p>Several emotions crash into him all at once. Happiness that Dean feels the same way he does, hope that there might be a future for them, pride that he’s able to hold Dean’s interest at all, and so much affection for the man next to him that he literally doesn’t know how he can be expected to keep it all inside of him.</p><p>“Dean,” he breathes happily. “I —” </p><p>But he’s completely lost for words. He doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling because he doesn’t even know what the name is for it. What <em> is </em> this mass of warmth inside of him? The one that’s taken up permanent residence inside of his chest, that grows and pulses depending on the way Dean looks at him or touches him? It even swells when Dean texts him, but nothing makes it so powerful as when Dean kisses him or calls him sweetheart.</p><p>“I know, Cas,” Dean murmurs. </p><p>And even though neither of them have put words to this, making it impossible for Dean to know exactly what Castiel means, Castiel nods nonetheless and meets Dean’s lips with a startling intensity. This kiss is different somehow. More like their first than any others, sweet and heart-achingly tender, but seeking and answering, too. This kiss says <em> you matter to me </em> and <em> I’m crazy about you </em> and <em> I’m feeling this dizzying, exciting, frightening jumble of emotions for you, too. </em> It whispers of promises that are insane to think let alone voice on a third date, but maybe his life of solitude has made him crazy after all because he would swear he can feel them in the brush of Dean’s fingers on his cheek and the slow, worshiping way Dean’s lips are clinging to his. </p><p>“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighs, dropping feather-light kisses to his jaw and back towards his ear. “I swear to god it’s never been like this for me before.”</p><p>Castiel’s heart is beating so fast he’s surprised the sound isn’t audible. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks Dean.</p><p>Dean pulls away, putting an abrupt end to the fuzzy feeling encompassing Castiel. He backs away just far enough to look at Castiel’s face, and Castiel watches while Dean’s eyes flit over each of Castiel’s features, trying to figure him out. </p><p>“I want you to stay here,” Castiel says again. “In my bed. Holding me like this all night, if you want to.”</p><p>“If I want to?” Dean says, his lips quirking into a sideways smile. “Of course I want to. But there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“There’s no reason to wait, either,” Castiel argues. “We’re both consenting adults.” <em> Oh. </em> “Unless you’re not ready or willing. I know I’m being pushy.”</p><p>“No, I actually sorta like that about you. I like that you tell me what you want and how you feel and take all the guesswork out of it for me. Makes me feel, I dunno, more solid?” Castiel nods his head, understanding completely. “I’m ready and willing, I’ve just got this little voice in my head — that sounds a hell of a lot like Sam, by the way — telling me if we go too fast we’ll fuck it up or something.”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t really know how these things work. Is three dates too soon to spend the night with somebody? Will they mess up their relationship (if this even counts as a relationship) if he asks for this? He doesn’t know, but Dean said he likes Castiel being honest with him, so all he can do is keep being himself.</p><p>“You know I’ve never done any of this before, but... it doesn’t feel fast to me,” Castiel confesses. “It feels right.”</p><p>Dean hums low in his throat and leans in for another kiss, hungrier than the last. He can almost taste the edge of desperation, like Dean’s trying to cling to something for dear life by the very tips of his fingers. But he can also feel it when it starts to settle. Dean’s hands soften and his fingers brush through Castiel’s hair instead of holding him still, and by the time Dean’s rubbing down Castiel’s shoulders, Castiel feels like he’s about to melt bonelessly into the couch. </p><p>Dean angles his head so their lips part but their foreheads stay pressed together. Dean’s breathing heavier than Castiel is, like this decision is having some kind of profound effect on him, and Castiel is about to rescind his offer and reiterate that it’s really fine if Dean thinks this is all moving too quickly, but then Dean says, “Yeah. I wanna stay.” His hands leave Castiel’s shoulders to cup his face gently. “I wanna stay with you tonight.”</p><p>Before Castiel can so much as agree, Dean stands up and scoops him right off of the couch and into Dean’s arms. Dean has one arm along Castiel’s back and one under the bend of his knees, and Castiel’s stomach swoops with excitement as Dean carries him through the living room like he weighs nothing at all. </p><p>As impressive as this manly display of strength is, it’s also absolutely hilarious that Castiel is an almost thirty-year-old man and he’s being carried to his bedroom like some kind of damsel in distress. “Do you always carry your partners to bed for the first sleepover?” Castiel asks, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the gesture.</p><p>“First time,” Dean says. “How’m I doin’?”</p><p>It’s not <em> bad </em> to be cradled in Dean’s arms and it’s certainly not bad to have actual, tangible proof that Dean is strong enough to carry Castiel through the room, but it does feel a little funny. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Castiel decides. “It’s kind of... weird.”</p><p>“It’s romantic,” Dean huffs, walking into Castiel’s bedroom.</p><p>Castiel snorts a laugh. “Is it?”</p><p>His tone of voice heavily implies that it isn’t romantic at all, but even still, he isn’t expecting Dean to dump him unceremoniously in a heap on the bed. For some reason, he finds that almost as funny as when he spilled his beer right into Dean’s lap, and he bursts out laughing. He catches a glimpse of Dean standing at his feet, his arms crossed with a reluctantly amused expression on his face, and he finds that even funnier. </p><p>Dean shakes his head and moves his hands onto his hips. Castiel guesses he’s trying to look mad, but his eyes glittering with laughter give him away. “You started out so quiet and serious when we first met.”</p><p>“I was working,” Castiel points out. “And you were a customer.”</p><p>Dean seems to accept that and begins to reconsider. “Actually, you <em> did </em> sorta give me a hard time right off the bat. Asking if we’ve met before when you knew I was worked up about you not remembering me in high school. You always were a bit of a smart ass.”</p><p>Castiel grins, pleased with that assessment. “I don’t think I knew I was like that until I met you. It’s been so long since I spent this much time with anybody without the ‘the customer is always right’ state of mind, it’s almost like I forgot what my own personality was like.” </p><p>Every trace of Dean’s semi-irritation fades the second Castiel is done talking. Dean slides onto the bed next to him, propping his head up on his hand again, but looking sad when he gazes down at Castiel now. “I still don’t get how you didn’t have people lined up down the street begging for a chance to get to know you before I showed up.”</p><p>“I don’t see many people,” Castiel tries to explain. “I worked with my dad most days, and everybody was always more willing to talk to him than me. Maybe I got too used to being in the background, or maybe people just kept treating me like I was because I had been for so long. Maybe...” It seems too deep to just <em> say </em> out loud, but the way Dean’s looking at him makes him think Dean will understand. “Maybe I didn’t want to be seen.”</p><p>“And then I come in and literally couldn’t tear my eyes off of you,” Dean says, reaching out to brush his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Didn’t exactly wait for an invitation to get to know you better, either.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Castiel says fondly. “You just sort of pushed your way in with compliments and coffee and that one smile you use to try to get your way.”<br/>Dean smiles that exact smile now. “Worked, didn’t it?”</p><p>“You have no idea.”</p><p>“No?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely curious.</p><p>“No. I’ve been realizing a lot about myself since we met, and one thing I’m absolutely sure of now is that I don’t want the things I used to want.” He wasn’t planning on going any deeper than that, but Dean’s waiting quietly for more. “I used to think I wanted to live my life in solitude, enjoying the quiet and the opportunity to do what I want whenever I want.”</p><p>“Those are some of the best perks of being single,” Dean agrees.</p><p>“But now I know I’m never going to be satisfied with my life the way it was before you came along, and I’m okay with that. The truth is, I don’t want to go back to being alone all the time. I want friends. I want to date. I want to come home to an apartment that smells like flowers because somebody likes me. I want to fall in love. I want to have sex.” Dean laughs at that one, so he smiles, too. “Not necessarily in that order. I want to <em> live. </em> And I have you to thank for that.”</p><p>It’s truly adorable that a comment like that can make Dean blush a half hour after he asked to suck Castiel’s dick. “I was just there, man. Hell, if I had any idea you were working that first day, I never would’ve come into the toy store.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Dean teases, “but you make me a little nervous.”</p><p>Obviously he’s noticed — they both have. “You know that’s absurd, right?”</p><p>“The fact that you say shit like <em> absurd </em> is proof that you’re way outta my league.”</p><p>“I’m not some great catch, Dean. I’m a nerd,” Castiel reminds him.</p><p>“Yeah, and I’m a jock.”</p><p>Castiel shakes his head, not at all okay with the way Dean made that sound like a negative thing. “You’re so much more than a jock. You’re brilliant.” Dean scoffs, so Castiel repeats it a second time. “You’re <em> brilliant, </em> Dean. I could hardly believe how intelligent you were when we started talking on our first date. You always seemed smart but you were so nervous that you got yourself jumbled up a lot. When you started talking about books and music and your passion for them overruled your nerves, I got to see the real you, and I’ve been a goner ever since.”</p><p>Dean rolls over and nuzzles into Castiel’s neck, which Castiel suspects is more to hide his embarrassment from a genuine compliment than because Dean wanted to be closer to him. “So you’re sayin’ it wasn’t just my pretty face?”</p><p>“Your face is so far down the list of reasons I like you, you could take it away altogether and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”</p><p>“Jeez,” Dean breathes. He sounds overwhelmed, but thankfully, not in a bad way. That’s confirmed when Dean smooths his hand through Castiel’s hair again and kisses him under his jaw. “Where’ve you been all my life?”</p><p>“Working in the toy store,” Castiel replies. Then he turns his head so that Dean’s forced to look him in the face. “Waiting for you to show me what I was missing.”</p><p>Dean moves up to brush their lips together once, twice, three times before he pulls away enough to talk. “We haven’t even gotten to the really good stuff yet.”</p><p>Assuming Dean’s talking about sex, Castiel says, “I thought we established we were going to try that next time.”</p><p>Dean gives him a little shove. “I wasn’t even talking about sex, ya horn dog.”</p><p>Castiel snorts a laugh. “I have a lot of time to make up for.” Then being more serious, he adds, “Honestly though, I thought that’s where you were going with a comment like that.”</p><p>“Sex is awesome, Cas, and you’re not gonna hear me deny it,” Dean replies. “But you can get sex pretty much anywhere. Online, at a bar, even standing on a street corner.” Castiel nods, though now he really doesn’t know where Dean is taking this conversation. <em> “I </em> was talking about the really good stuff you can only get when you’re with somebody you care about.”</p><p>His interest is suitably piqued. “Like what?”</p><p>“Well, are you ready for bed?”</p><p>Castiel shrugs. “I’m not particularly tired.”</p><p>“I’ll show you when we get ready for bed, then,” Dean decides. “In the meantime, how do you feel about snuggling up right here and watching that new After Dark in Color show?”</p><p>“That sounds fine to me, but I have no idea what show you’re talking about.”</p><p>Dean huffs a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t have David Attenborough, but it’s a documentary shot with these crazy new cameras that can film stuff in night vision but in color. The ads look pretty good, thought it might be something you’d be into.”</p><p>“That <em> does </em> sound like something I’d be into. What’s it on?”</p><p>“Apple TV. Do you have it?”</p><p>“No, but I have a Smart TV. Could we stream it from your phone to the TV?”</p><p>They can, it turns out. And although the actual program is called Earth at Night in Color, he secretly thinks After Dark in Color sounds better. They watch two episodes lying in bed with his head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s arm around Castiel’s, and Castiel knows without a doubt that he’s discovered a new favorite way to watch television. He’s comfortable and that warm feeling inside of him is back with a vengeance. Unfortunately, he’s also well into a routine of falling asleep in this bed, and they barely make it through the second episode with him still fully conscious.</p><p>“Feels like somebody’s fading fast, huh?” Dean asks.</p><p>He doesn’t sound judgmental at all. In fact, he sounds almost unbearably fond. “You’re very comfortable.”</p><p>“We should probably call it a night.”</p><p>“Yeah. I think I have a new toothbrush I haven’t opened yet. Came in a two pack,” Castiel explains. </p><p>“Dibs,” Dean declares, making Castiel laugh.</p><p>They get out of bed and head into the bathroom where Castiel dutifully opens the new toothbrush for Dean and hands it over. They brush their teeth side-by-side, catching each other’s eyes in the mirror frequently and making both of them smile and laugh. </p><p>Once their teeth are brushed, Dean offers, “I’ll give you a minute to do what you gotta do in here with the door closed and then we can switch.”</p><p>After Castiel empties his bladder and washes his hands, they trade places, and Castiel goes to lock up and turn out all the lights. With that dealt with, he changes out of the cardigan he was in and into a plain t-shirt specifically for sleeping, and then he’s left standing awkwardly in his bedroom waiting for Dean to join him. </p><p>Dean doesn’t take long — less than five minutes altogether — but it’s long enough for Castiel to start second guessing the decision to sleep with Dean tonight. </p><p>What if he does something embarrassing in his sleep? What if he has horrible morning breath? What if he snores? What if <em> Dean </em> snores? What if Castiel can’t sleep because he doesn’t know how to share his space? What if he rolls onto Dean and hurts him? What if he rolls out of bed? What if he farts?</p><p>The bedroom door opens and Castiel is suddenly aware that he has worked himself up so much in the last few minutes that he’s started to sweat. Flashbacks of his first date with Dean come back to him, and weirdly enough, knowing how nervous he was then and how well it turned out for them actually calms some of his nerves. </p><p>“Holy shit, Cas.”</p><p>Castiel wasn’t expecting <em> that </em> to be what Dean said when he walked back into the bedroom. “What’s the matter?” he wonders. </p><p>“Not a damn thing, believe me,” he grins. Castiel is still confused, and he shows it by tilting his head just a little. Dean shrugs. “This is the first time I’ve seen you down to a t-shirt instead of a cardigan or sweater vest or old man sweater. I had no idea you were hiding a body like that under there.”</p><p>Castiel glances down at his plain t-shirt and then back up to Dean. Deciding Dean doesn’t look like he’s joking, he tentatively says, “Thank you?” Then, realizing Dean is still in his Henley, he asks, “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in?”</p><p>Dean ruffles the hair on the back of his head before answering. “I uh, usually sleep without a shirt on.” Castiel can see Dean’s cheeks starting to redden, but before he can assure Dean that’s fine if that’s what he’s comfortable with, Dean blurts, “But I can keep it on if you want. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to sleep in bed with me half-naked. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”</p><p>“I don’t see how you wearing less clothes could be a bad thing,” Castiel says honestly. “Feel free to sleep in your boxers if you want to.”</p><p>Chuckling nervously, Dean says, “I don’t think that’d be the best choice under the circumstances, but thanks.” </p><p>Dean’s fingers play at the hem of his shirt for a second, and Castiel realizes that staring as Dean removes his clothing probably isn’t the polite thing to do, so he averts his eyes and glances over at the bed instead. “Do you have a preference for which side of the bed?”</p><p>“I can sleep pretty much anywhere.” </p><p>“I usually get out of bed on this side,” Castiel says, pointing to the side closest to the bedroom door. </p><p>“It’s all yours. Come on, let's get under the covers before I get cold.” </p><p>When Castiel looks back at him, he’s met with the view of Dean’s bare chest. He’s careful not to stare, but he definitely notices toned shoulders and arms, a strong-looking chest — all beautifully dotted with freckles — and a soft but flat midsection that makes Castiel feel a lot better about his own.</p><p>“Cas?” Dean prompts him.</p><p>Castiel feels his own cheeks flush after being caught staring. “Sorry.” Then, remembering Dean said he was allowed to look earlier, he says, “Although you did say it was okay for me to look before.”</p><p>“You can, I’m just looking forward to showing you the really good stuff,” Dean says.</p><p>Castiel shakes his head fondly, but finally pulls back the covers and climbs into bed. “I still can’t believe you don’t want me to think you’re talking about sex when you say that.”</p><p>Dean chuckles as he gets into bed next to Castiel. “The more you say it, the more I doubt myself.” Castiel laughs this time, and Dean says, “You forgot to turn off the lights.”</p><p>“Alexa, turn off the bedroom lights.” </p><p>Alexa answers, “Okay,” and the lights go out.</p><p>“Well look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants.”</p><p>“The room is in complete darkness, Dean. Nobody’s looking at me or my fancy pants,” Castiel points out. He lets out a sharp sound of surprise when Dean pokes him in the stomach, and he knows Dean can hear the laughter in his voice when he says, “And I’m still waiting for the really good stuff.”</p><p>“So bossy,” Dean teases. “You said you want me to hold you, right?”</p><p>He wasn’t expecting that to be part of what he was waiting for, but he’s not unhappy about the possibility. “Yes, please.”</p><p>“Have you ever spooned, Cas?”</p><p>“No,” Castiel replies, intrigued by the idea.</p><p>“Roll over so you’re facing away from me.” Castiel follows his instruction and rolls over onto his side. He startles slightly when Dean places his hand on his hip, and he feels Dean exhale a huff of amusement through his nose. “I’m gonna scoot in nice and close, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Castiel agrees.</p><p>There’s a bit of shuffling behind him, and he’s pretty sure Dean moves one of the pillows, but then Dean’s arm slides around his waist. Dean’s knees slot up against the backs of his, Dean’s groin fits against his backside, a firm chest presses against his back, and he feels Dean’s breath on the back of his neck. <em> A lot </em> of their bodies are touching, and it takes a few seconds before his heart stops racing and his mind settles enough to realize he’s enjoying this. </p><p>It’s almost like he’s surrounded by Dean with the way Dean’s at his back but has his arms around Castiel’s stomach, and with the warmth of Dean’s skin bleeding through Castiel’s t-shirt, he finds it incredibly intimate, but satisfying. </p><p>“How’s that?” Dean asks quietly.</p><p>“It’s very nice,” Castiel answers. “How is it for you?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Dean hums. “Cuddling looking at stars was the good stuff, but this is the <em> really </em> good stuff.”</p><p>Castiel was thinking ‘the really good stuff’ was sex, but this whole time, Dean’s been thinking of spooning. It’s remarkably endearing. “Would you consider yourself a physical person?”</p><p>“When I can get away with it, yeah,” Dean confirms. </p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“Another stupid idea my dad tried to get in my head. Real men don’t need affection,” Dean explains mockingly. “I know it’s bullshit now, but a lotta the time I avoid it before I catch myself and correct it. Makes me wonder how often I don’t catch myself and miss out.”</p><p>“If it helps, I like that you’re affectionate. I didn’t know holding hands could feel this good until recently, but now that I know, I think we should take advantage of it as frequently as possible.”</p><p>Dean nuzzles into his neck. “That a fancy way of tellin’ me you like holding my hand, Cas?”</p><p>Castiel’s heart flutters. “Maybe it was,” he realized belatedly. </p><p>“I like it too,” Dean says. “I like all of it with you.” Castiel feels lips brush just behind his ear, causing goosebumps to pop up along his skin. “Can I make you breakfast tomorrow?”</p><p>Castiel’s heart thuds. “If you want to.”</p><p>Against the shell of his ear, Dean whispers, “Can I make you breakfast next weekend, too?”</p><p>Castiel’s heart falls into Dean’s hands. “Yes, please.” </p><p>Castiel doesn’t know it at the time, but when he looks back later on, he recognizes that as the moment he fell in love for the first time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a long one, folks.</p><p>Grab some snacks, a drink, maybe a cozy blanket or two, and enjoy!</p><p>(Also... this is the chapter where we really earn that <i>explicit </i> rating 😏)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello?”</p><p>Dean takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and blurts, “I think I’m in love with him.”</p><p>There’s a long beat of silence before Sam says, “In love with <em> who?” </em></p><p>“Cas. Castiel Milton,” Dean explains, his heart racing a mile a minute just from saying it out loud. He just got back from Cas’s place after spending the night there, and before he had even woken up all the way, he nuzzled into the bend of Cas’s neck and thought, <em> I love him. </em>He’s been in a mild state of panic ever since, and he’s dying for an outsider’s point of view, which is why he called Sam the second he got home. </p><p>“That guy from high school?” Sam asks. “Wait, hold on. Didn’t you just go out for your first date with him a week ago?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean answers. Then, because <em> he knows </em> how ridiculous this is, he says, “I know how crazy this sounds.”</p><p>“Oh good,” Sam laughs. “That means I don’t have to try to tell you how crazy you sound.”</p><p>“Nope, I got it. I <em> know, </em> okay?” And logically, he does. This is fucking insane. You don’t have a crush on somebody from a distance for four years, go out with them three times, and then fall in love. That’s just stupid. Hell, he’d dated Lisa for more than a year and never fell in love, there’s no fucking way he’s fallen in love with Cas after a week. </p><p>And yet... </p><p>It’s easy to remember exactly how he felt with Cas in his arms this morning. He thinks about how he feels every time he makes Cas smile, every time they kiss, every time they talk. He thinks about spending the night with him again tonight and next weekend and the weekend after that, and he gets that same undeniable feeling inside of him. It’s unlikely and unprecedented and absolutely crazy, but he went and fell in love with Cas already.</p><p>“But I love him, Sammy.”</p><p>“I see we’ve already dropped the ‘I think.’”</p><p>Dean sighs as he flops back onto his bed. “You think I’m crazy.”</p><p>Sam huffs a laugh of disbelief. <em> “You </em> would’ve thought you were crazy a week ago.”</p><p>“Would I?” Dean questions. </p><p>He’s always been a romantic at heart. He’s never had it until now, but he’s always been a fan of the mushy stuff. He likes the flowers on a first date thing, the ‘apologize with big gesture’ thing, the happy ever after thing. It’s part of why he’s always loved romantic comedies and why he’s read so many great love stories. <em> He </em> knows that, but he doesn’t know if Sam does.</p><p>“Yeah, you would,” Sam says. There’s a few seconds of silence and then some shuffling, and Sam asks, “What is it about him?”</p><p>Dean shakes his head and stares up at the ceiling, a million different reasons coming to mind at the same time his brain goes completely blank. “I have no fucking clue.” What is it? The eyes? The voice? The smile? The <em> good </em> that just radiates off of Cas whenever he sees him? All of that? Or is it something completely different? Something nobody can put into words when they fall in love and just <em> is? </em> Dreamily, Dean says, “Wish I knew.”</p><p>“You sound like you’re high,” Sam points out.</p><p>With happiness, yeah. And he knows why. “It’s all him, man.”</p><p>“What kind of drugs is he selling you?” Sam wonders.</p><p>“Ha ha,” Dean says sarcastically. “You knew what I meant.”</p><p>“Jo says you’ve been like this all week,” Sam tells him.</p><p>Not <em> quite </em> like this — not <em> quite </em> as over-the-moon happy — but he can see why Jo might say so. “And?”</p><p>“So what is it about him?” Sam asks again. “You’ve been with people longer and I’ve never heard you like this.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I love him. It’s crazy, but I do. I love him.”</p><p>“It’s crazy, but you love him?” Sam repeats. “You hear yourself?”</p><p>“Sure do,” Dean confirms. </p><p>“Okay,” Sam says quietly. “Okay, let’s say I believe you and you actually went and fell in love with the guy you were obsessed with in high school after knowing him for a week. You know the worst possible thing you could do right now is tell him that, right?”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes even though Sam can’t see him. “I said I’m crazy, not that I’m an idiot, Sam.”</p><p>“Some things don’t need to be said,” Sam says back, which makes him laugh a little. “Just be careful. Jo told me that as far as anybody’s heard in town, Castiel has never even dated before you. He might not want things to get serious this fast.”</p><p>Again, Dean gets that logically, but that’s not the vibe Cas has been giving him. “I know,” he says anyway.</p><p>“Alright. Well,” Sam says with a heavy sigh. “If you know you sound crazy and there’s no talking you out of it <em> and </em> you know not to scare Castiel off by telling him you’re insane, then I guess all that’s left to say is... I’m happy for you.”</p><p>Dean wasn’t expecting <em> that. </em>“You’re what?”</p><p>“Is it really so hard to believe?” Sam laughs. “I’m happy for you. I hope it works out.”</p><p>Dean smiles at that, letting it sink in. For once in his life, Sam isn’t asking him when he’s going to stop sleeping around. Sam’s <em> happy </em> for him, and he didn’t think it was possible, but that makes him even happier than he was a minute ago. </p><p>“When are you coming up here to meet him?”</p><p>“Next weekend?” Sam asks.</p><p>“I’ll make sure he doesn’t have anything else going on, but yeah. That would be great, actually. I’m gonna open up the Monday after that so maybe you could give me a hand with last minute shit if you come.”</p><p>“I’ll make sure to be there,” Sam promises. “Just don’t scare him away before that.”</p><p>With that thought in mind, he asks, “Hey, Sam? I came home to get some fresh clothes before heading back to his place for dinner. How long do you figure I have to wait before going back?”</p><p>Sam huffs a laugh. “What did he say when you left?”</p><p>“I’ll see you soon,” Dean tells him.</p><p>“Then you’re probably good to go whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean agrees. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, but then again, Cas had been the one who couldn’t stop kissing him stupid at the front door, telling him to hurry back. Maybe Sam’s got him overthinking this. Cas wants to be with him and he wants to be with Cas, and he’s not going to let anything else get in the way of that. “Thanks, Sammy.”</p><p>“Be nice to him, and use protection.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes again while he hangs up, but that <em> does </em> make him think. Cas probably doesn’t have condoms or lube, and while he has no expectation of actually needing either tonight (or any time soon), he figures it’s better safe than sorry and throws a strip of condoms and a still-sealed bottle of lube into his duffle bag with fresh boxers and clothes for tomorrow. </p><p>He’s all packed and is just about to head into the shower when his phone rings. </p><p>It’s Sam calling back, so he answers it with, “What now?”</p><p>“I forgot to ask you about the car.”</p><p>“What car?”</p><p>“The Impala,” Sam says, his voice conveying what a stupid question that is to ask.</p><p>“What about her? Baby’s fine.”</p><p>“Not <em> that </em> Impala. The one Cas was painting for you! You told me he was going to paint it last week and then you never told me how it turned out.”</p><p>Dean’s mouth hangs open. He <em> forgot </em> about the fucking car. He’s been so enamored with Cas that he fucking forgot all about the car Cas is supposed to be restoring for him. It’s kinda funny, actually. He only met Cas because of the car in the first place, and for a while there, that’s really all they had to talk about. But now they’ve gotten to know each other so well and are so comfortable talking about everything else that the car hasn’t come up at all. He’s sure Cas has finished painting it by now, but neither of them have said a word about it. </p><p>Maybe he should keep it that way. </p><p>“Oh. It’s... it’s coming along,” Dean lies. “I’ll send you a picture.”</p><p>“Okay,” Sam says. “Talk to you later then.”</p><p>“See ya, Sammy.”</p><p>He gets an annoyed sounding, “It’s <em> Sam,” </em> before the line goes dead, and Dean’s grinning to himself when he tosses his phone back onto the bed and heads for the bathroom.</p><p>A half hour later, he’s freshly showered, shaved, and dressed in soft jeans and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. It’s still cold outside, but Cas is such a snuggler that he knows he’ll be too hot inside wearing anything with long sleeves. And that is <em> not </em> a complaint.</p><p>He enjoys how touchy-feely Cas is. Dean’s not used to being so intimately close to a man without getting fucked by one, so it’s nice to be able to share that with Cas for the first time, to become comfortable with the way their bodies slot together and how it feels falling asleep in bed holding another man instead of a woman. If this thing with Cas is any indication, he’s been missing out.</p><p>He arrives back at Cas’s apartment just before dinner. Cas has the previously agreed-upon spaghetti boiling and Dean can smell the scent of cooking meat in the air, letting him know the meatballs are well on their way to being finished. He doesn’t hesitate at all before walking into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Cas from behind, nuzzling into the side of his throat and damn near bursting with happiness when Cas hums all low and pleased in his throat. </p><p>“It smells amazing in here,” Dean tells Cas, his hands settling onto a pair of tantalizingly sharp hip bones. He catches a whiff of either deodorant or body wash clinging to Cas’s skin and adds, “And I’m not talkin’ about the food.”</p><p>Cas huffs a laugh, but he sounds happy when he says, “You charmer.”</p><p>“Can I help?”</p><p>“No, but you can go put your bag in my room if you want.”</p><p>Dean does, but only after turning Cas’s head towards him for a quick peck on the lips. He leaves his bag next to his side of the bed, or at least, the side of the bed he slept on last night (though honestly, he and Cas had stayed pretty close to the middle from what he could tell when he woke up), and then he heads back into the kitchen. </p><p>“Do you drink wine?” Cas asks him. </p><p>“I can drink pretty much anything, why?”</p><p>“I thought since we’re both in for the night now we could open a bottle of red to go with dinner.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me.” Eager to help, he says, “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll pour us each a glass.”</p><p>“The wine is already breathing,” Cas says, nodding to the bottle in the corner.</p><p>Dean grabs some glasses, and pretty soon, he and Cas are sitting at the little table in Cas’s kitchen and clinking their wine glasses together in a toast to each other. Dean loves food so much that he’s freaking <em> thrilled </em> to find out Cas knows his way around the kitchen, and he makes sure to compliment Cas several times throughout their meal, asking him how he makes his meatballs and what kind of sauce he used for the spaghetti. Like he’s come to expect with Cas, the conversation over dinner is easy. Even though they’ve done a lot of talking over the last week, it feels like they’ve barely brushed the surface of all the topics they can talk about, and they jump around from one to the other so smoothly Dean can’t even pinpoint how it happens when he tries.</p><p>Dean insists on doing the dishes after Cas cooked, but <em> Cas </em> insists on drying rather than sitting back while Dean does everything, so their conversation carries over to the sink while they do the dishes side-by-side. Once they’re finished with that, they bring the wine and their glasses out to the living room and get cozy on the couch.</p><p>They’re both almost finished with their second glasses of wine when Cas tops them up and empties the bottle with a sheepish smile in Dean’s direction. Well, if they finished a whole bottle of wine already, it’s no wonder his head feels a little fuzzy.</p><p>“Guess that explains why my head’s spinning a little,” Dean chuckles.</p><p>“It’s hard to tell what’s from the alcohol and what’s from you,” Cas replies.</p><p>“You sayin’ I make you feel drunk, Cas?” Dean teases.</p><p>“Only every time you look at me.”</p><p>Secretly pleased, Dean says, “Well, that’s not too bad then.”</p><p>“You won’t hear any complaints from me.” </p><p>In fact, he gets the complete opposite of a complaint when Cas surges forward and catches Dean’s lips in a long, satisfying kiss. It stays light with heat just simmering under the surface for several long kisses, and Dean’s happy to keep it like that for now. He loves kissing Cas, loves feeling Cas’s kisses becoming more confident and less mechanical, and he loves the way their lips lineup so perfectly in so many different ways. </p><p>It goes on like that for a while until Cas’s tongue slides competently against his own, making Dean’s blood boil with possessiveness when he thinks about how <em> he </em> taught Cas how to kiss like this. Whether Cas can read his mind or Cas is eager for more in the same exact moment Dean’s arousal spikes, the pressure of Cas’s lips increases against his own and their kiss changes from slow and deep to a series of passionate, hungry kisses that inspires thoughts of Dean straddling Cas’s waist just to feel Cas’s cock pressing up against him.</p><p>And that’s when he pulls away, breathing hard, head swimming with lust. </p><p>“What’s the matter?” Cas asks, trying to move in for another kiss.</p><p>Dean presses a hand to his chest to silently ask him to wait, and he sees the flash of hurt in Cas’s eyes. “Nothing, sweetheart,” he promises, moving his free hand up to stroke through Cas’s hair to make sure Cas knows he hasn’t done anything wrong. “Just don’t want to end up with a lap full of wine this time,” he teases.</p><p>Cas laughs the way he hoped. “I am more than happy to put my wine down so we can continue where we left off.”</p><p>“Later,” Dean promises. “When I don’t have the wine clouding my judgment as much.”</p><p>Cas is disappointed, Dean can tell, but he nods and puts a little bit more space between them. “Well, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do without the influence of alcohol,” Cas replies.</p><p>“Believe me, there ain’t much I don’t want to do with you,” Dean admits. “I just wanna make sure we’re both thinking clearly. If you haven’t noticed, you kinda make me lose my mind a little.”</p><p>“The feeling is mutual,” Cas assures him. “And I appreciate you,” he says, more seriously now. “Thank you for being so good to me.”</p><p>“You don’t gotta thank me for that.”</p><p>Cas leans in to brush their lips together, then scooches over a little so he’s not quite so pressed up against Dean’s side. “Should we watch a movie?”</p><p>“Yes! We still have to watch The Hunger Games since you haven’t seen them.”</p><p>“But I already read the books,” Castiel says.</p><p>“The movies are great, though. You’ll like them,” Dean promises. “Plus, Gale is hot.”</p><p>“Well now you’ve convinced me,” Cas laughs, but he does reach for the TV remote to turn on Netflix. They both finish their wine, and after two and a half hours of having Cas’s body pressed up against his, he is more than ready to move things to the bedroom when Cas asks. “Do you want to watch the next one in bed where it’s more comfortable?”</p><p>Truthfully, he’s comfortable where he is, but he’s not about to turn Cas down a second time. “Yeah. I’ll uh, use the bathroom to get rid of some of this wine and brush my teeth so I don’t have to get up again.”</p><p>“I like the way you think,” Cas replies. “I’ll put these away and lock up and meet you in the bedroom.”</p><p>Dean gives Cas’s knee a little squeeze then gets up to take care of what he said he would. Cas does the same, and after Cas’s turn in the bathroom, he crawls up onto the bed and lies half on top of Dean, laying his head down on Dean’s shoulder and resting his hand on Dean’s chest. Dean’s arm holds him in place with a hand on his lower back, and he both feels and hears it when Cas sighs happily. </p><p>“I like you in my bed,” Cas declares.</p><p>That’s a pretty innocent statement to be sending so much blood rushing down between Dean’s legs, but he knows his body is thinking about those words in a different context than what they were meant in. Even still, he answers, “I like being in your bed.”</p><p>“I like <em> you,” </em> Cas says next.</p><p>Dean smiles and kisses the top of Cas’s head. “I like you, too.”</p><p>“I’d like to see more of you,” Cas says. </p><p>Dean purses his lips, trying to figure out exactly which way Cas meant that. He doesn’t have long to consider it, because Cas takes the guesswork out of it by tilting his head up and starting a tentative trail of kisses along Dean’s neck towards his jaw. Dean experiences a full body flush when Cas’s hand slowly slides down his torso and pushes its way up his shirt to feel the bare skin of Dean’s belly. Dean turns towards him, urging Cas’s hand onto his hip instead of so low on his belly now that he’s facing him, and he sees Cas’s usually bright eyes dark with arousal staring back at him. </p><p>“That can be arranged,” he promises, “but I thought we were gonna watch another movie.”</p><p>“The movie can wait,” Cas decides, sliding his hand back under Dean’s shirt and onto his bare hip this time. “But I don’t want to.”</p><p>Clearly Cas is looking to fool around tonight, and as much as Dean doesn’t want their time together to be <em> all </em> about that, the way his body is already responding to Cas’s simple touches has him agreeing without much thought. </p><p>“Okay, but I wanna see more of you, too.”</p><p>“Nobody’s ever seen me like you have,” Cas says quietly. “I’m all yours, Dean.”</p><p>Dean maybe loses his head a little at that, because the next thing he knows, their mouths are sealed together and he’s using his hips to pin Cas beneath him on the bed. Cas doesn’t shy away from their closeness, though. If anything, he opens his legs wider, guiding Dean in to settle between them and immediately rocking up to create friction between two rapidly growing bulges.</p><p>Cas’s hands slip right back up Dean’s shirt, pressing heavily into his back and his sides and roaming up to the space between his shoulder blades, leaving a trail of fire behind on Dean’s skin that seems to burn hotter with each pass of Cas’s hands. Rocking together in Cas’s bed with Cas’s hands greedily sweeping along his skin has things going from zero to one hundred in no time, and he is more than ready to lose his t-shirt when Cas pushes it up so far it’s stuck at his armpits. </p><p>He’s reluctant to pull away from the tempting plushness of Cas’s spit-slick lips, but he does it just so he can ask first. “You want me to get rid of my shirt?”</p><p>“Yes.” Cas says it without hesitation, so Dean grips it by the back and tugs it up and over his head. “Mine, too,” Cas says, and <em> hell yes, </em> Dean is down for that. He puts his hands on Cas’s hips and slowly pushes his sweater up, ducking his head so that he can kiss a path up from his belly button as each inch of golden skin is revealed. Cas is gorgeous, fit without being toned, and Dean uses his mouth to worship Cas’s torso as it’s bared to him. Cas is squirming and panting by the time he loses his shirt altogether, but before Dean can get a good look, Cas surprises him by surging forward and flipping them over so that <em> Cas </em> is on top and making a home for himself between Dean’s legs.</p><p>Dean wraps them around Cas’s waist without a thought, groaning loudly when he feels Cas’s cock press against his through two layers of denim. Clearly taking that as the enthusiastic permission it was meant to be, Cas dives in to capture his lips. It’s a filthy kiss, all tongue and teeth and barely restrained passion, and Dean moans and arches eagerly into Cas’s roaming hands, begging him silently to keep going. </p><p>Cas’s lips travel down his neck, and Dean feels a tongue dip into the hollow of his throat. “I love being with you like this,” Cas murmurs, continuing down until he’s found a spot that makes Dean’s breath hitch when he sucks on it. “I want to learn every inch of you. Touch you everywhere. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”</p><p>“Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathes, overwhelmed by how forward he’s being and how it’s making Dean’s cock harder than it’s been in <em> years. </em> </p><p>Cas pulls back to look down at him. “Was that too much?”</p><p>“Fuck no,” Dean replies. “Just try not to be disappointed when you being on top of me like this has me embarrassing myself in five minutes flat.”</p><p>Cas’s eyes squint in confusion for a second, but then Dean sees them widen and flash with heat. “You like having somebody on top of you?”</p><p>It’s entirely possible that Cas’s voice only sounds a few octaves lower in Dean’s head, but the rumbling timbre of it has Dean damn-near whimpering his response. “Like having <em> you </em> on top of me.” He rolls his hips to prove his point, pressing his lips to Cas’s to muffle his sharp sound of pleasure from the friction between their cocks. “You feel so good, Cas.” As he runs his hands down Cas’s muscular shoulders, he feels inspired to add, “And you’re hot as hell.”</p><p>Cas kisses him again, harder this time, with his tongue sweeping possessively into Dean’s mouth as he continues to grind his cock down onto Dean’s. Dean’s struggling to keep his cool, trying not to ask for more than Cas wants to give, trying to stop his nails from biting into Cas’s skin to tug him impossibly closer, but virgin or not, Cas can <em> move </em> those hips of his like a fucking pro and it fills Dean’s brain with <em> vivid </em> images of just how well Cas is going to fuck him someday. </p><p>His stomach muscles jump when he feels fingers on his fly. Their kiss comes to an abrupt halt and they’re both breathing into each other’s mouths, warm puffs of heavy breaths landing on lips as they wait each other out, trying to decide if they’re going to take this further or not.</p><p>“Can I?” Cas asks finally.</p><p>“‘s long as you’re sure,” Dean replies carefully. “There’s no rush.”</p><p>Cas nods his head shakily, but his voice is sure when he says, “I want you.”</p><p>Those words hit him like lightning, electrifying him from the inside out. “Whatever you want,” Dean promises, his voice husky with lust.</p><p>Cas seems satisfied by that, flipping open Dean’s fly and lowering the zipper. Dean can feel his cock spring upwards, trying to escape the tight confines of his jeans and boxers. Like Cas knows exactly how he feels, his fingers dip into the elastic band of his boxers and pull down. Dean wasn’t expecting Cas to want to get rid of his boxers right off the bat, but he’s more than willing to lift his hips and help Cas out with what he wants. </p><p>He can practically <em> feel </em> Cas’s heated gaze where Dean’s cock lays heavily on his belly, and as many times as he’s bared himself to partners before, he’s <em> never </em> felt the sexual tension this thick in the air until now. Dean’s breath catches audibly in his throat when Cas looks up at him with flushed cheeks and wide, dark, <em> eager </em> eyes. When Cas’s shaking hands find his own fly, he unbuttons and unzips before sliding both boxers and jeans off of his own <em> magnificent </em> hips to reveal himself to Dean entirely for the first time. </p><p>Wanting to make Cas as comfortable as he can, Dean keeps his eyes locked on Cas’s until Cas turns to drop his pants on the floor with Dean’s, and then he takes the opportunity to look down at the thick, flushed cock Cas has bobbing heavily between his legs. His body is <em> buzzing </em> with arousal when Cas lowers himself back into the vee of Dean’s legs, slowly but purposely aligning their bare, straining cocks one inch at a time. </p><p>Cas’s arms give out on him in the exact same second their groins slot together entirely: two swollen cockheads, along their long shafts, and all the way down to where their balls are nestled together intimately. Cas hides his face in Dean’s neck as he collapses, and then <em> Dean </em> needs a second to find his composure when he experiences the weight of Cas’s solid, muscular body pressed flushed to his from neck to hip. </p><p>Cas is breathing hard and Dean can feel the way his body is trembling now that there’s nothing between them. Figuring it’s probably from nerves, Dean strokes through his hair down the back of his head, pressing chaste, calming kisses to the side of his head. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”</p><p>“I’m — I’m good,” Cas says into his neck. </p><p>“You sure?” Dean checks. “Because we can still stop. I won’t be sad or mad or disappointed or anything like that.”</p><p>“No,” Cas says firmly. “I don’t want to stop. It just — it feels <em> really </em> good and I don’t want to come yet.”</p><p>Dean huffs a laugh, knowing exactly how Cas feels now that he’s explained himself. He remembers all too well what Cas had sounded like when he groaned and shook his way through his orgasm out on the couch, and he’s suddenly hungry to experience it again. </p><p>“I can make you feel even better, you know,” Dean promises. “Just tell me what you want, sweetheart.” Cas’s only response is a shuddering exhale against Dean’s skin. Figuring Cas might be a little shy, he offers, “You want me to use my hands and stroke that big cock of yours for you?” Cas groans into his neck and Dean swallows a garbled sound that rises in his throat when Cas’s hips stutter against his. “You wanna rub against me like this until you come all over me?”</p><p><em> “D-Dean,” </em>Cas bites out.</p><p>He can <em> feel </em> Cas reacting to his every word. He can feel Cas shudder and shake and gasp for breath as Cas’s cock twitches and leaks precum like a fucking tap. Cas is so fucking <em> wet, </em> and he has no idea if that’s because Cas is so turned on or if he’s always like this, but Dean hopes he has the chance to find out. He’s always loved making his partners feel good in bed, so Cas’s every shaky breath makes him feel hotter, sexier, more powerful, and he’s almost dizzy with the depth of his arousal.</p><p>“You want me to suck your pretty cock, Cas? Make you come so hard down my throat that I can’t swallow it all?”</p><p><em> “Yes,” </em> Cas whines, rutting against him again, purposely this time by the feel of it. “But only because I don’t want the first time we have sex to be over before it starts.” </p><p>Dean’s mind goes completely blank for a solid three seconds, making it impossible to comprehend the meaning of what Cas just said. “I’m sorry, what?”</p><p>“I want to have sex with you.”</p><p>“You want to have sex with me,” Dean repeats. Cas nods without a trace of hesitation, and as Dean’s mind catches up with what Cas just said about getting a blow job first, he sky-rockets past panic and lands firmly in hysteria. <em> “Tonight?” </em></p><p>“As long as you want to.”</p><p>Okay.</p><p>Okay okay okay. </p><p>It’s not like he <em> doesn’t </em> want to <em> , </em> he just wasn’t expecting Cas to want to go there so soon. He thought they’d probably talk about it at some point, but now Cas brought it up when they’re both naked and horny, and as much as he really, <em> really </em> wants to let his hormones take over and jump right into the good stuff, he knows he needs to make sure this is what Cas really wants.</p><p>“You know we can wait, right? There’s plenty of stuff we can do before diving right into <em> that.” </em></p><p>“Dean,” Cas says softly. “I understand society puts a lot of pressure on the concept of virginity and that you might be under some ridiculous notion that my first time needs to be surrounded by candlelight with rose petals on the bed, but I assure you, I know what I want. And what I want is you, right here and right now. As long as you’re okay with that,” he seems to add as an afterthought.</p><p>Dean nods, using Cas’s words to soothe his own anxieties. Cas has always been honest with him and he has no reason to believe Cas would be saying he wants this if he didn’t, especially since Dean hasn’t exactly been pushing. And Cas is right — as long as Dean is willing (and <em> boy, </em> is he willing), it’s not up to Dean how and when Cas has sex for the first time. All that’s up to him is making sure they’re safe and comfortable and that he does everything in his power to make sure Cas’s first time is as enjoyable as possible.</p><p>With that in mind, he nervously broaches an important subject that has the possibility to be all kinds of awkward depending on how Cas reacts. “Yeah, I’m a hundred percent on board,” Dean nods. “But you should probably know your blow-job-before-sex theory has a potential flaw depending on how you want this to go.” Cas squints at him in confusion, so he just comes right out and says it. “It tends to get pretty sensitive<em> inside </em> after an orgasm.”</p><p>If it’s possible, Cas’s pupils expand even more. “Do... do you know this from personal experience?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean answers honestly. “Some guys can handle it — I usually can — but some clam up because it’s <em> too </em> sensitive and I don’t want you to be disappointed if you’re one of them.”</p><p>Cas nods his understanding, and Dean watches his mouth start to form words several times before he seems to get any out. “Dean — could I...?” Cas stops and swallows hard once more, squeezing his eyes closed like he can’t look at Dean when he says whatever he’s preparing to say. “Would you be willing... for the first time...?”</p><p>Dean cups Cas’s face and brushes a thumb along his pink cheekbone. Wanting and willing to do anything to make this easier for Cas, Dean says, “I’m a switch, Cas. I like it both ways. Whatever you want for your first time is what I want.”</p><p>“I want to fuck you,” Cas breathes. Okay, <em> wow. </em> Apparently Cas is <em> full </em> of surprises today. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you kissed me on our first date.”</p><p>Dean gives into the flames racing through his veins and kisses Cas now, <em> hard, </em> licking into his mouth and sliding his hands up into his hair. Cas matches his ferocity kiss for kiss, and as the heat between them grows and grows with every passing second, he loses himself in thoughts of Cas stuffing him full with that thick cock. He hasn’t been fucked in months and he’s burning with the anticipation of it actually happening now that he knows it’s a possibility, so it’s close to torture to have to pull away again, but he isn’t sure they’re done talking it through yet. </p><p>He sucks Cas’s bottom lip between his own and then scrapes his teeth over it as it pulls free. “Must’ve been one hell of a first kiss,” Dean pants. </p><p>Cas is already trying to kiss him again, and he hums his agreement as he nibbles on Dean’s lips in what Dean can only assume is an attempt to kill him. “God,” Cas gasps as he visibly struggles to pull away. “I never knew I could <em> want </em> like this. It’s all I can think about.”</p><p>“Well, sex is pretty awesome,” Dean grins. “And I am more than willing to be your test subject and selflessly let you explore it as much or as little as you want. But uh... you should know this isn’t just sex for me. I like you a lot — way more than I’ve liked anybody in ages — and I want to keep seeing you and dating you and, uh, maybe make you my boyfriend someday,” he admits. “I don’t want this to be just sex. Not with you.”</p><p>“Dean,” Cas says softly. “If I wanted to have sex just to have it, I would’ve done that by now. I want to have sex <em> with you </em> because you make me feel warm and safe and like maybe I would like to be your boyfriend someday.” Dean smiles softly, even more pleased from hearing that than he is with the possibility of sex tonight. “And also more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”</p><p>Thankfully, the end of Cas’s little speech is enough to have him laughing instead of saying something extremely stupid like <em> I love you so much. </em> He would probably be looking at a Cas-shaped hole in the door if he did, so he’s glad Cas steered the conversation in a different direction.</p><p>“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he promises. </p><p>Cas’s eyes darken, and Dean pulls him down with a hand on the back of Cas’s neck. Now that he knows where this is going, he’s eager to touch as much of Cas’s body as he can, sweeping his palms up Cas’s back and shoulders and down his sides to those hip bones he’s still dying to get a better look at. They rock together gently, more to satisfy the instinct to move together than to get each other off, but the surprised gasps and groans Cas lets out whenever their cockheads drag together is pushing Dean much closer to the edge than he’d like to be right now.</p><p>Trying to distract himself, he breaks their kiss and mouths along the side of Cas’s neck, tasting the salt of his sweat on his tongue until he reaches the spot where Cas’s neck meets his shoulder. He latches on and sucks, intent to leave yet another hickey on the golden canvas of Cas’s skin, but he stops short when Cas lets out an almost pained-sounding, <em> “D-Dean, </em>I’m g-going to—”</p><p>“Not yet you’re not,” Dean interrupts. Dean uses his weight to roll them over, grimacing slightly when he puts too much pressure on his bad knee. He can tell Cas notices by the pinch between his eyebrows, so he explains before it kills the mood. “My knee’s always a little tender, but believe me when I say I’m not sparing it a thought right now.”</p><p>He spreads Cas’s legs by draping the backs of Cas’s thighs over the front of his, and then he leans over him and lowers his mouth to Cas’s skin. He follows the curve of Cas’s collarbone down his chest where he sucks Cas’s left nipple into his mouth. Cas cries out sharply like it’s too much, so Dean lets up a little and laves his tongue over the slippery bud instead. Cas hums a low sound of pleasure at that, encouraging Dean to keep going as he circles Cas’s nipple with the flat of his tongue. Satisfied with the strong grip Cas has on his shoulders like Cas is struggling not to pull him closer, Dean moves over to give Cas’s right nipple the same treatment, using his thumb and forefinger to roll and pluck at the spit-slick nub on the left.</p><p>When Cas’s hips start coming up off of the bed to rub against him, Dean begins the descent down his belly and noses at the soft hair around his navel. Cas twitches and pants more and more the closer Dean gets to his cock, and by the time he’s done sucking a deep purple mark into one of the two most sinful hip bones he’s ever gotten his hands on, he’s genuinely wondering if Cas is worked up enough to come untouched. </p><p>He rubs down the inside of Cas’s surprisingly thick thighs as he shoulders his way between Cas’s legs, and only when his face is close enough to Cas’s cock for Cas to feel his breath on it does he flick his eyes up to check Cas’s expression.</p><p>Cas is beet red, covered in a very appealing, very <em> manly </em> layer of sweat, and he’s flushed all the way down to his chest. His lips are kiss-bitten red and swollen, his eyes are wide and dark, and his hands are now fisted in the sheets like he’s afraid he’s going to fly right off of it if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. He looks absolutely <em> wrecked, </em>and Dean hasn’t even touched him yet.</p><p>But he also looks like he’s trying not to have a heart attack.</p><p>“The first time I got head, the chick didn’t even know what she was doing and I barely made it two minutes,” Dean tells Cas. “The first time I got a blow job from a guy who <em> did </em> know what he was doing and made it pretty damn clear he got off on it, I don’t even think I lasted that long,” Dean laughs. “I know how you’re feeling right now, and I promise you, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about if you come too fast.” </p><p>Dean can see some of the tension leave his body as Cas nods. “That’s comforting considering the very <em> idea </em> of your lips on me is almost enough for me to lose it.”</p><p>“Oh they’re gonna be on you, alright,” Dean promises. “Wrapped around you nice and tight. Sucking your fat cock so good. You’ve got no idea how good this is about to feel.” </p><p>“You’re a monster,” Cas rasps, and Dean laughs heartily. </p><p>“Somethin’ tells me you’re about to change your mind real quick,” he teases. He wraps his hand around the base of Cas’s cock to steady it and gets a surprised sound of pleasure from Cas right off the bat. Before he goes any further, he checks, “You’re clean, right?”</p><p>“Obviously,” Cas huffs, his voice rougher already.</p><p>“Tell me if you wanna stop or don’t like it, okay?”</p><p>Cas nods again, and then Dean licks a slow, wet strip from the base of Cas’s cock up towards the tip.</p><p>“Oh ffffuck,” Cas curses, and Dean grins as his tongue passes over where the ridge of Cas’s shaft meets the crown.<em> “Oh,” </em>Cas breathes again. That single syllable turns into a moan when Dean’s tongue passes over the top and licks across the head. “Ohhhh, Dean. It feels s-so good.” </p><p>Every sound of pleasure he wrings out of Cas causes heat to course through him, and he moans one of his own as he cleans up the mess of precum that’s dribbled down Cas’s shaft. Dean’s cock throbs where it’s pressed into the bed sheets beneath him as his tongue works Cas’s shaft until there’s nothing but the newest beads of pre-release beading at the tip. Dean licks that up too, and with his job now accomplished, he meets Cas’s eyes as he wraps his lips around Cas’s cock for the first time.</p><p>Cas’s mouth hangs open as Dean creates a tight seal, and Dean knows without a doubt in his mind that he will never forget the sound that escapes Cas when Dean sucks. It’s so low and deep and Dean can feel the rough timbre of it low in his belly, driving him to suck again, harder this time. Precum bursts onto his tongue, a little salty and a little bitter, but <em> all Cas </em> and that’s all that matters to him right now. Cas is breathing like he’s running a marathon, his thighs trembling and his stomach visibly twitching, and Dean takes a deep breath and concentrates on swallowing him down. He takes Cas in slowly, one inch at a time so that Cas can watch his cock disappear down Dean’s throat. </p><p><em> “Dean,” </em>Cas grits out, voice tight. </p><p>Cock still in his mouth, Dean glances up to find Cas’s eyes nearly swallowed in black. There’s a familiar tinge of embarrassment staring back at him, and although he had his suspicions before he even started, he’s pretty sure Cas is looking at him like this because he’s close to his orgasm already. He doesn’t want Cas to feel so embarrassed that the memory of his first blow job won’t be a good one, so he lets Cas’s cock fall from between his lips and traces a thick vein with the flat of his tongue instead. </p><p>He pumps Cas’s rock-hard cock in a loose fist as his tongue explores, using his own spit and Cas’s precum to slicken his fist. He leaves open-mouth kisses on his way back down where he nuzzles past the patch of wiry hair and into Cas’s balls, breathing in the heady scent of Cas’s arousal. He presses his lips onto one and then the other, and then suckles gently on the loose skin of his sac, drawing a low, deep moan from the man beneath him. He brings his hand down to cradle his balls against Cas’s body as he moves back up towards where Cas’s cock is still steadily leaking. </p><p>“Gonna make it, stud?” Dean asks, more teasing than curious. </p><p>As he expected, Cas nods quickly, like he couldn’t be more okay if he tried, and Dean goes back to what he was doing with a renewed sense of determination. This is bound to be the best blow job Cas has ever had because it’s his first one, but Dean’s going to make damn sure it’s the best one he ever gets, too. Cas gasps when Dean leaves a wet kiss on the tip of his cock, so he lets his tongue dart out for a quick taste. He keeps his one hand stroking up and down, using light friction so it doesn’t set Cas off too fast, and presses his tongue into the slit. Precum oozes out around it while Cas makes a desperate choking sound, and Dean laps it up, swallowing down the bitter taste and the way Cas says Dean’s name like a prayer, causing his body to buzz with arousal<em> .  </em></p><p>He lets desire fuel him to wrap his lips around Cas’s plump cockhead once more, then he takes Cas down his throat in one practiced move. Cas calls out, his hips come off of the bed, and Dean’s nose meets Cas’s pubic hair for the first time. He stays there just long enough to hear a string of curses mixed in with his name, his jaw aching and his mouth stuffed full beyond comfort, and then he swallows around Cas’s cock and pulls back up to the head for a breath.</p><p>Cas visibly shudders when Dean’s eyes flick up to him, and Dean holds eye contact as he sinks back down and begins bobbing his head. Cas’s cock stretches the corners of his mouth and slides heavily on his tongue, all smooth, soft skin gliding through the <em> o </em> of his lips, and Dean knows he could do this forever. Savoring the taste of Cas, learning what makes his cock pulse and how to milk another bead of precum from him, making Cas feel as good as he should always feel.</p><p>He uses one hand to fondle Cas’s balls and the other to chase the tight ring of his lips, up and down, up and down, sucking on the upstroke and breathing out on the way down. Cas is squirming, tremors moving through his lower body, and Dean can hear his breaths starting to come out in short, quick little gasps. Dean figures that’s probably a clue that Cas isn’t going to last all that much longer, and he hasn’t even experienced the best part yet. </p><p>Without letting Cas’s cock fall from his mouth, he moves the hand from Cas’s dick to grab at one of Cas’s hands and tugs it onto his head. The other hand moves there on its own, and Dean hums around Cas’s dick to let him know that’s exactly what he wanted. Cas’s fingers push into the longer hair on top of his head and Dean hums again, hoping if he’s vocal enough, it’ll to encourage Cas to — <em> oh fuck </em> — do <em> that.  </em></p><p>Cas <em> tugs </em> and Dean’s desire sparks like a match in the dark. He loves a man who knows what he wants, and Cas is fitting the bill <em> perfectly. </em></p><p>Like a puppet on strings, he follows the tentative pressure to pull back up to the tip of Cas’s cock where he swirls his tongue around the head and draws a sexy groan from Cas in the process. It only lasts a few seconds before Cas pushes down on the back of his head, and Dean follows Cas’s guidance until he’s got Cas’s cockhead cutting off his airflow. He swallows around him again and Cas pulls him back up just long enough to let him get a breath before shoving him back down, guiding him into a much quicker pace of bobbing up and down than Dean was setting on his own.</p><p>To the surprise of no one, it doesn’t take long for Cas to start making the exact same sounds Dean has memorized from when Cas was trying to bury them in his neck out on the couch last night. Knowing that means Cas is about to come, Dean knocks his hands away, gets a good, tight grip on Cas’s hip bones, and <em> sucks. </em></p><p>Cas cries out loudly enough that the neighbors would hear him if there were any. Dean’s pretty sure more than a few strands of hair get pulled out when Cas’s fingers tighten painfully hard on his head, and then Cas is gasping out a warning Dean didn’t need as he comes in thick spurts across Dean’s tongue. Thankfully, he’s always been a swallower, so he gulps it all down one bitter mouthful at a time and sucks greedily at the tip for more.</p><p><em> “Ah!” </em> </p><p>Cas yelps as another burst of semen hits Dean’s tongue, and then strong hands are on his jaw and Dean’s being pulled off completely. Dean licks his lips and rubs the back of his hand over the mess of saliva and cum all over his face, and is just about to make a comment about how he was enjoying that, thank you very much, but then he gets a good look at Cas. His flushed, sweaty face, and his heavily-lidded eyes send a punch of desire right to Dean’s gut, reminding him of how painfully hard he is, and he moves without thinking.</p><p>He stretches up over Cas’s body to press their lips together, trying to ignore the way his cock presses against the softness of Cas’s hip. Cas is tentative at first, keeping his mouth firmly closed, and Dean breaks away just enough to murmur, “It won’t taste bad. Try it.” Cas’s mouth opens slowly now that he has permission, and Dean slips his tongue into Cas’s mouth, sharing the taste of Cas’s cum with him. Cas makes a surprised sound before he kisses him back twice as hard, making Dean rut instinctively in the space between Cas’s hip and the bed beneath him. He’s so fucking hard he could hammer nails, and he groans pitifully when he thinks about how long he might have to wait before he has Cas inside of him where he wants him most. </p><p>Because thinking that way isn’t going to make anything easier, he tries to clear that from his mind and concentrate on something else. Like checking in on Cas and seeing how he feels about everything that just happened now that it’s over.</p><p>He brings their kiss to an end slowly, then brushes his fingers through Cas’s sweaty hair and kisses his forehead. “How’re you doin’, sweetheart?” he checks.</p><p>“Good,” Cas answers, smiling softly. “Really good. You’re very good at that.”</p><p>Dean chuckles. “Glad to hear you think so.”</p><p>“I see what all the fuss is about it now,” Cas continues. “I’d like to try to reciprocate next time, if that’s okay.”</p><p>“Y-yeah,” Dean stutters as <em> little Dean </em> leaps in excitement. The idea of those perfectly pink lips wrapped around his cock with those big, innocent blue eyes gazing up at him is almost more than he can take, worked up the way he is. “I told you, we can do anything you want. I’m open to just about anything, even kinky shit. Just, uh, not <em> really </em> kinky shit. I mean, a little’s okay, like wearing women’s underwear or sp—”</p><p>A part of him wants to curl up and die by the time Cas’s finger on his lips stops his nervous babbling. “Funny your mouth is so affected now when it had no problems telling me what a pretty cock I had not too long ago.”</p><p>“I hate you,” Dean says.</p><p>Cas throws his head back and cackles, and Dean’s drawn in like a moth to a flame. He scoots in close enough to kiss his neck, smiling into his skin when Cas’s laugh continues. It’s a good, rich sound, and Dean wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life. </p><p>“You don’t hate me,” Cas finally answers, turning towards him.</p><p>Dean meets his eyes, considering the very real possibility of being in love with that particular shade of blue since high school, and says, “I really don’t.”</p><p>“I really don’t, too.” </p><p>Cas can’t possibly mean what Dean means, but it makes his chest flood with warmth anyway. “You wanna watch that movie now?” Dean asks.</p><p>“No,” Cas answers definitively. “I want you to show me how to prep you so that I can fuck you.”</p><p>He was hoping Cas would say something like that. “Do you have lube?”</p><p>To his surprise, Cas nods, reaches into the drawer of an end table (giving Dean an <em> incredible </em> view of an <em> incredible </em> ass in the process), and comes up with a bottle. Dean quickly adjusts his expectations here and reminds himself that just because Cas is a virgin doesn’t mean the guy is a prude. Exhibit A: The lube, which is half-empty.</p><p>Thinking about Cas using the lube to jerk off right here in this very bed, coming all over himself night after night is definitely not something he should be doing when he’s already this worked up, but vision after vision springs to his mind anyway. He imagines Cas twisted into a pretzel, struggling to finger himself deep enough, sweaty and frustrated that he can’t reach his prostate on his own, leaking all over the sheets and his stomach and...</p><p>“Have you used this on yourself for what we’re about to use it for?” Dean asks.</p><p>For a second, Dean thinks Cas is going to deny it, but he doesn’t. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then you already know what you’re doing,” he reassures him. “How do you want me?”</p><p>Cas seems to consider that a moment before he replies. “On your stomach at first.”</p><p>Dean flashes him a knowing smile before he rolls over. “Wanna watch, huh?”</p><p>Cas doesn’t answer him, but he doesn’t have to because they both know he’s right. Dean’s dick is hard against the soft blankets when he gets comfortable with his ass propped up just enough to be a tease. He looks over his shoulder to see Cas’s reaction and finds him slicking up his fingers with plenty of lube.</p><p>“You still want to, right?” Cas asks him.</p><p>“Probably gonna cry if we don’t,” Dean jokes, and Cas laughs again before he trails his hand up the back of Dean’s thighs. “But for real, no pressure.”</p><p>“Should I start with one finger?” Cas asks.</p><p>Dean nods and swallows hard as his dick twitches with anticipation. “Yeah.”</p><p>He tries to hold still when Cas’s finger slides between his cheeks and rubs until he’s over Dean’s entrance. His touch is firmer and surer than Dean expected it to be, and he’s weirdly turned on by it. He gives Cas a couple seconds to gather his courage when Cas hesitates with his finger applying light pressure to Dean’s hole, but nothing happens. </p><p>“You won’t hurt me,” Dean reassures him. </p><p>Like that’s what he was waiting for, Cas’s finger breaches his rim and sinks inside of him as deep as it will go. “Fuck,” Cas breathes, wiggling his finger around curiously. “That’s tight.”</p><p>“Keep going,” Dean urges him.</p><p>Cas withdraws and plunges back inside, slowly at first but quickly picking up the pace when Dean makes it clear he’s enjoying it. Cas sets a steady rhythm that has Dean rocking against the bed sheets, already reveling in the sensation of something filling him, even if the something isn’t nearly enough. He doesn’t have to prompt Cas for a second finger, Cas just shoves it inside of him when he thinks Dean is ready. Cas has massive fucking fingers, so the stretch is significant and Dean keens loudly, leaning into the sweet burning stretch of it. </p><p>“Jesus fuck,” Dean bites out, riding back into Cas’s hand to get him as deep as he can. “Feels good,” he says for Cas’s benefit. </p><p>“You look almost unbearably hot,” Cas rasps from behind him. “You take it so well.”</p><p>Dean squirms when his cock throbs from Cas’s praise, and Cas takes the bait to start fingering him again. Just like before, there’s no hesitation. His fingers slide in and out smoothly, crooking and searching with his fingertips on each pass until he finds what he was looking for and Dean cries out with the sharp sting of pleasure. </p><p>“A ha,” Cas says proudly, drawing a low chuckle from Dean. Cas is relentless after that, and Dean selflessly endures several long, euphoric minutes of Cas playing that sweet spot until Dean feels Cas’s hardness pressing against him again. He’s perfectly happy with the attention that’s being paid to him right now, with Cas’s free hand palming his ass cheek like he’ll never get enough of it and Cas’s fingers rubbing his prostate again and again, but he <em> really </em> wants that fat cock buried inside of him.</p><p>“I’m good,” Dean tells him finally. “Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>He whines when Cas pulls his fingers out, but watches eagerly when Cas reaches for a condom. Cas fiddles with the little foil square for a second, his flushed face turning more pink by the second until he admits, “I’ve never actually used one of these before.”</p><p>Dean remembers how intimidating it can be to fumble through trying to figure out a condom when somebody’s waiting eagerly for it, so he takes pity on Cas. “I got you,” Dean says. “Be easier for me to do without lube on my fingers anyway.”</p><p>He pushes himself up to sit, accepts the wrapper from Cas, tears it open, and looks at Cas up on his knees in front of him. He’s impressed — Cas is fairly hard considering it hasn’t been that long since he came down Dean’s throat. Dean pinches the tip of the condom before gripping Cas at the base of his cock and rolling it down over his leaky head. “Gotta leave some space at the tip for the boys,” Dean explains with a wink. Cas swallows hard and Dean continues rolling the condom down until it’s in place. Cas releases a shuddering breath, and Dean says, “Just as easy as that.”</p><p>“Something tells me it won’t feel that good when I do it myself,” Cas says shakily.</p><p>“Ain’t that always the way,” Dean teases. “Just wait until I get my fingers in you.”</p><p>Cas leans in for a deep, probing kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean and lowering him back down onto the bed like it’s something Cas has done a million times. Cas realigns their groins as he lays himself down on top of Dean with a groan. Dean thrusts into the friction a few times until Cas’s hands slide down Dean’s body to push Dean’s thighs apart. Cas makes himself comfortable between them, then presses in until his cock slides along the crack of Dean’s ass.</p><p>Their lips stay sealed, sharing deep, passionate kisses as Cas takes Dean back into his arms, pressed as closely together from shoulder to knee as humanly possible. Cas rides the crease of his cheeks, gasping into his mouth with Cas’s arms shaking around him until the head of Cas’s cock slips right up against Dean’s pucker.</p><p>They both groan, lips barely grazing but refusing to give up the connection completely. They’re really about to do this, and Dean’s heart feels like it might leap right out of his chest. Cas braces his forehead against Dean’s and those blue eyes Dean loves so much bore into his, dark with desire but alive with excitement and soft with affection all at once.</p><p>Dean loves him so much it hurts. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Dean whispers.</p><p>“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”</p><p>Before Dean can even begin to reply to that, he feels the blunt head of Cas’s cock pushing forwards. Cas hesitates only a second with his cockhead applying steady pressure to his rim before he thrusts shallowly, popping through the tight ring of muscle and sinking inside with a groan so low Dean can feel it rumble through his chest.</p><p>Cas is thick and it’s been a while, and Dean’s cock kicks and spurts feebly as Cas’s stretches him wide as he slides into place. <em> “Jesus Christ </em>you feel big,” Dean sighs happily.</p><p>“Probably because you’re so fucking tight,” Cas replies with a tight voice. “<em> Holy shit, </em>Dean.”</p><p>Dean is too incoherent to do anything but moan and grab helplessly at Cas’s strong back when Cas finally bottoms out. Cas’s cock is long and rock hard and Dean feels so completely satisfied with it in every way possible that he can’t even describe the enormity of the sensation. With Cas’s eyes still trained on his, Dean feels like he’s full everywhere, inside his body and his heart and deep down all the way to his very soul.</p><p>Overcome with emotion, his voice is hoarse when he says, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” He arches up to draw Cas into another kiss, greedy to wrap himself up in another layer of intimacy with the man he loves. He pushes through Cas’s hair, soothing Cas’s heavy breathing and racing heart with gentle, searching kisses until it calms. “You’re doing amazing,” he whispers. When Cas smiles softly like he’s proud of himself for it, Dean slides his hands over Cas’s shoulders and down past the dip of his lower back. Cas’s breath hitches when Dean gets two handfuls of that meaty ass, and Dean says, “Now fuck me,” against Cas’s lips before he catches them in another kiss.</p><p>Cas rolls his hips tentatively at first, and Dean makes sure to let out a quiet, encouraging sound as he feels that thick cock move inside of him. Cas rocks into him just like that again and again, but the fourth time, Dean pulls him in a little faster. Cas gasps against his lips but takes the hint, and soon, he’s set up a somewhat erratic pace of short thrusts in and out.</p><p>Cas is obviously enjoying himself, breathing hard and making plenty of pleasure-filled noises, and it’s not <em> bad </em> exactly, but it <em> is </em> Cas’s first time so it’s not quite smooth sailing, either. He just needs a little guidance, is all. Somebody to show him how it’s meant to feel, how good it can be to change it up from long, slow thrusts to slamming inside of somebody and everything in between, and Dean is more than willing to be that person for Cas.</p><p>He puts his hands on Cas’s hips and urges him to a stop. Their lips part for the first time in what feels like ages so Cas can ask, “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Not a damn thing,” Dean assures him. “But I wanna ride you.”</p><p>Cas swallows so hard Dean can see his Adam’s apple bob. “Okay.”</p><p>His voice cracks on the <em> ay </em> and Dean smirks when Cas slides free and rolls over. “Try leaning back against the headboard,” Dean suggests. Cas wiggles back until he’s in position, and then Dean crawls into his lap and straddles him, ignoring the sharp pull behind his bad knee. </p><p>Cas brings their lips together as Dean wraps his arms around his neck, and Cas hums happily as his hands frame Dean’s face. “I like the way you think. I can see you better this way.”</p><p>“Knew you liked my face,” Dean says weakly, his heart threatening to overflow into his chest.</p><p>“Maybe I just want to see you when I come inside of you for the first time.”</p><p><em> Son of a bitch. </em> “Hold yourself steady, then, ‘cause I’m about to take you for a ride.”</p><p>Cas’s eyes flash with heat as he reaches between them to do just that, getting one hand on his cock and one holding tight to Dean’s hip. “I really, <em> really </em> like the way you think,” Cas repeats.</p><p>Dean has a smile on his face when he lifts himself into position and feels the head of Cas’s cock nudge against his entrance. He holds eye contact as he presses down, watching bliss wash over Cas’s face as he pushes down onto the fat head and then sinks nice and slow onto Cas’s thick shaft. </p><p>Cas’s fingernails are biting into his hips and his lower lip is trembling slightly, so he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer to this question, but he wants to hear it anyway. “How’s that feel?”</p><p>“Unbelievable,” Cas breathes. <em> “You </em> are unbelievable, Dean. All of you.”</p><p>“I lured you in with sex,” Dean jokes.</p><p>“Yes, well, sex feels <em> really </em> good,” Cas whispers, wide-eyed like it’s some kind of forbidden secret.</p><p>“It’s supposed to,” Dean whispers back. He’s pleased to hear this has been a positive experience for Cas so far, especially since they haven’t quite found their rhythm yet. Hopefully he can fix that. “Just sit back and let me make you feel even better, okay sweetheart?”</p><p>Cas nods and pulls Dean back in for another kiss. Dean lets Cas kiss him slow and deep, and once their tongues are sliding together in a gentle caress, Dean swivels his hips to match the rhythm of their tongues. He starts a slow figure eight, up and around and down and up, watching Cas’s eyes all but roll back into his head with his appreciation for each and every one.</p><p>“Dean,” Cas whimpers.</p><p>It was a worshiping whimper, one praising and disbelieving that this much pleasure exists, and Dean feels powerful and incredibly sexy when he asks, “More, Cas?”</p><p>“More?” Cas asks incredulously.</p><p>“Barely even gotten started,” Dean chuckles.</p><p>“More,” Cas confirms. “More of everything with you,” Cas declares, catching his lips in a surprisingly heated kiss. </p><p>Dean gets lost in the demanding blaze of his lips, sinks completely into Cas’s lap and stops the figure eight to concentrate entirely on the desperate edge to Cas’s kisses, egging him on by sucking on the tip of his tongue and drawing him in deeper, harder, more frantically. When he can’t take it anymore, he begins rocking back and forth in a gentle imitation of what they’re working up to. Their position only leaves room for an inch of Cas to push into him with each undulation of his hips, but Cas is in deep and Dean angles his hips to make sure the head of Cas’s cock brushes over his prostate repeatedly, ramping up his desire with every second that passes. </p><p>Their lips come together each time their bodies do, pressed chest-to-chest, hip to hip, with Cas’s cock grinding inside of him. Dean’s cock is sandwiched between their bodies, sliding along Cas’s soft stomach each time he rolls his hips forward, smearing precum on Cas’s skin. Cas’s tongue plunges into his mouth, past the seal of his lips again and again in time with his rolling thrusts. Dean has the crazy thought that it’s like Cas is fucking him twice with the way his tongue is thrusting possessively into his mouth, and just like that, he’s pushed dangerously close to the edge.</p><p>Hungry for it now, Dean spreads his legs a little wider, gets more leverage up on his knees, and lifts up to slam down onto Cas’s cock. </p><p><em> “Dean!” </em> Cas calls out. </p><p>“Try not to come yet,” Dean asks him. “I’m close.”</p><p>Cas nods shakily, and Dean spears himself a second time, all the way to the hilt. Cas groans nice and low, squeezing his eyes closed, and Dean sets up a frantic pace of impaling himself over and over again. He braces himself on Cas’s strong shoulders, breathing hard as he fucks himself on Cas’s thick cock again and again. Cas seems to come back from the brink and grasps onto his hips to help him along, and the two of them settle into a skin-slapping pace that brings them both closer and closer to the edge with every second that passes. </p><p>Cas lifts his chin for another kiss and Dean closes the inches between them, riding Cas’s cock like a stallion, lost in the dual sensations of Cas’s cock pressing in so deep and Cas’s hands sweeping up and down his back and along his sides with so much tenderness. When Cas’s hips start twitching and his kisses get distracted thanks to those same, short, quick little breaths Dean recognizes now, Dean braces himself on Cas’s shoulder with one hand and leans back enough to be able to wrap the other around his cock. </p><p>He angles his hips just right, making Cas’s cockhead nail his prostate like a bullseye when he slams down again. He curses a blue streak, feeling his cock swell and twitch as he grinds Cas’s cock into his sweet spot, and he only manages to stroke himself once before Cas’s big hand covers his own. Dean lets Cas take over jerking his cock happily as he bucks wildly into Cas’s tight fist. He fucks himself back onto Cas’s thick cock, then forwards into Cas’s big hand exactly twice before Cas starts to lose it.</p><p><em> “F-fuck, </em> Dean. I can’t. I’m — Dean, <em> Dean —” </em></p><p>Dean clenches around him as the next thrust lands perfectly and makes everything tighten all the way down to his toes. He slams back down, hard and smooth one final time, and when Cas’s hand squeezes almost painfully hard around his cock, that’s all it takes to send Dean head-first into his orgasm. </p><p>Dean crumples inwards as it crashes through him, spilling in hot, powerful streaks between their bodies and into Cas’s hand. Cas makes a choked-off sound of pleasure and thrusts up into him, picking up the slack now that Dean’s being wracked by his orgasm, and it punches out another streak of Dean’s cum onto his chest when Cas pounds into his prostate again. </p><p><em> “Fuck </em> Cas,” Dean gasps.</p><p>Cas grunts as his hips start to stutter and Dean knows he’s filling up the condom as he fucks up into him, officially putting an end to Cas’s first time. Dean grins proudly as he comes back to himself enough to work them both through their orgasms with a couple lazy rolls of his hips before he collapses into Cas’s arms.</p><p>That was <em> awesome. </em> </p><p>Cas lasted long enough to get him off, and they both came at almost exactly the same time. Sex is rarely that well timed, and almost never for two people just learning each other’s bodies. Must be because of how in-tune they are with each other already. </p><p>When Cas wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for another kiss, Dean’s glad for it. It’s a good thing Cas is the kiss before, during, and after sex kind of guy, because he’s pretty sure that’s the only thing that stops him from saying something dumb about how with a first time <em> like that, </em>they’re clearly made for each other.</p><p>They kiss with Dean still straddling Cas’s lap as long as they can until Dean starts to worry about the condom, and even then, he parts reluctantly to let Cas slip free. He flops onto his back and stretches out his knee so it isn’t any more fucked up tomorrow than it already is, waits for Cas to tie and ditch the condom, and then welcomes him in when Cas moves to gather him into his arms.</p><p>He allows himself to be maneuvered into being the small spoon, and he’s smiling like an idiot when Cas presses kiss after kiss into the bend of his neck. “That was <em> amazing,” </em> Cas breathes. <em> “You </em> were amazing — <em> are </em> amazing,” he corrects. “Everything about you, Dean. My god, I’m crazy about you.”</p><p>Dean chuckles happily. “That’s just the post-orgasm endorphins.”</p><p>“No it’s not,” Cas argues lightly. “I always feel like this about you.”</p><p>Dean tries to tell himself not to get his hopes up, that although Cas denied it, these words likely are brought on by the feel-good hormones that get released after sex. “Careful, Cas. You keep talking like that and you’re never gonna be able to get rid of me,” he jokes.</p><p>“Mmmm,” Cas hums, sliding his hand low over Dean’s belly and caressing it lovingly. “Have I mentioned that I’m crazy about you?” Dean huffs a laugh, but apparently, Cas isn’t done yet. “Or that you’re amazing, and beautiful, and that feeling you tighten around me when you came into my hand is the single most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life?” Dean knows exactly how that feels, and a bolt of arousal shoots through him from Cas’s words. Like Cas can tell, he puts one hand on Dean’s face and turns him towards him for a hard, searching kiss that renders Dean breathless all over again. Cas stares into his eyes when their lips part, and he whispers, “I am enamored by you, Dean Winchester.”</p><p>Because he knows it’s too soon to say what he really wants to say in return, he falls back on what he’s starting to think of as <em> their thing. </em> “That’s a two-way street, too.”</p><p>Cas brings their lips together once more for a soft but short kiss. “Do you need ice or heat for your bad knee?”</p><p>He’s shocked into silence. He tried hard to mask any pain he felt when he was straddling Cas, so he didn’t expect Cas to pick up on it. No other partner has ever offered to try to help him with this before, and he isn’t sure what to make of it. His first instinct is to deny the offer altogether because he doesn’t want to look weak, but because a tiny little voice inside reminds him he’s hoping to spend plenty of time with Cas in the future, he allows himself to be vulnerable in a way he never has with a partner until now. </p><p>“Ice.”</p><p>Cas kisses his forehead and says, “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>When Cas comes back with an ice pack and a towel and spends the next 2.5 hours holding it to Dean’s knee without a single complaint while they finally watch that second Hunger Games movie, Dean learns for the first time that being vulnerable isn’t a bad thing as long as it’s done with the right person. </p><p>And he’s absolutely, unequivocally, insanely in love with Castiel Milton.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*wiggles eyebrows* What'd you think?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Castiel spends a lot more time staring at a diecast car these days than he ever predicted he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help it, though, because to his highly-trained eye, this diecast car is perfect. The black paint is practically gleaming thanks to the sun streaming through the windows of the Antique Store. It’s the exact same shade as Dean’s actual Impala (he’s checked personally — more than once), and even under a magnifying glass, there’s no trace of the red paint underneath. It looks like it was made this way originally, or maybe like it was just waiting to wind up like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To bring him and Dean together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s possible the reason he spends so much time staring at the toy car has nothing to do with the toy at all. It makes him think of Dean. It makes him think of star gazing on the hood, of the low rumble of the Impala’s engine, of Dean looking so sexy and so confident behind the wheel of his car that it’s like he’s been pulled from the set of a movie or something. And Dean’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still can’t really wrap his head around it. Three weeks ago he wouldn’t have been able to pick Dean out of a lineup, and now he spends every free moment either with Dean or talking to Dean, learning his mind, heart, and body in ways he never could have dreamed he’d be able to know somebody as wonderful as Dean is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All because of this toy car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean hasn’t asked about it since he brought the touchup paint over more than a week and a half ago. Of course, Castiel hasn’t exactly brought it up, either. Dean has more than enough on his plate with his practice opening on Monday, and it’s not as if Castiel or the car are going anywhere. He can wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s torn out of his thoughts when he hears the jingle of the bell on the door alerting him to the arrival of a customer. His heart always leaps at the sound now, automatically hoping for Dean to walk through the door, but this time it’s an actual customer, though not one he’s familiar with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good afternoon,” Castiel greets the stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afternoon,” the man replies, offering a kind smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you find something specific or are you just browsing today?” Castiel wonders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just browsing, but I’ll let you know if I need anything,” the man answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel nods and leaves the man to look around. Castiel stashes the Impala away under the counter so the customer doesn’t think it’s for sale, then keeps an eye on him for a couple minutes. As the man wanders closer and closer to the counter, Castiel busies himself with paperwork to make it look like he’s been too busy to watch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this your store?” the man asks suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a conversation he has with customers who come in frequently, so he gives the little spiel without a thought. “It was my father’s originally, but he left it to me and I run it now, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that would make you Cas, then,” the man says, smiling now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nickname </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas</span>
  </em>
  <span> instantly makes Castiel think of Dean, but it sounds strange coming from somebody else, especially somebody he doesn’t know. “You seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage,” Castiel says carefully. “Have we met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, no,” the man chuckles. “I’m Sam Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s little brother. Well, not so </span>
  <em>
    <span>little,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain supplies as Sam approaches the counter and his height becomes more obvious. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same thing about you,” Sam says, smiling wider now. “Dean hasn’t shut up about you since your first date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s said with such a heavy layer of fondness that Castiel feels himself warm up to the idea of Dean’s brother immediately. Anybody who cares this much about Dean should be a friend of his. “The feeling is mutual, believe me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods, causing his long hair to frame his face more fully. “Hell of a place you’ve got here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Castiel says proudly. “Did you come here looking for something, or did you just want to say hello?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit of both,” Sam answers. “Dean told me about the diecast Impala, and I’ve been asking for pictures but I think he must be too busy with his head in the clouds because he hasn’t actually sent any. I was wondering if you had some?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do even better than that.” He grabs the car from under the counter and places it on the glass countertop instead. “I can give you the first look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam steps right up to the counter, his eyes locked on the Impala. “Wow,” he chuckles happily, his hand already reaching towards it. “May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” Castiel says. “As I understand it, this car has just as much sentiment for you as it does for Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not quite as much,” Sam admits. “Dean was always more of a car guy than I was, but this was mom and dad’s first car together, so.” He ends his sentence with a one-shoulder shrug, which is such a Dean-like gesture that it brings a smile to Castiel’s face. “Am I remembering wrong, or did Dean say this used to be red?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It did,” Castiel confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, that’s incredible. You can’t tell at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been doing this for a very long time,” Castiel says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, of course,” Sam says, apologizing with his tone of voice. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t good at your job, this is just so much better than I pictured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad it surpassed your expectations. Hopefully Dean will feel the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam straightens up, seeming disproportionately interested in that simple sentence. “Dean, uh — hasn’t seen this yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Sam says quietly. “You probably don’t know this yet, but Dean has a borderline unhealthy obsession with his car. He’s named it and everything. Him dropping the ball on this, specifically, is way out of left field for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has a lot going on right now,” Castiel explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Sam says with a nod. “That’s why I’m here, to try to help take some of the pressure off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll be very glad to have you here,” Castiel says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Well, thanks for letting me take a look at the Impala. You did a great job with it, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you approve,” Castiel replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told Dean I was going over to hang out with Bobby and Ellen, so I better head in that direction before he catches me here and gives me the third degree,” Sam says. “It was nice to meet you, though. I’m sure I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel wasn’t sure how this weekend would go with Sam being around, but it sounds like he will get a chance to see Dean after all, and his spirits lift with the idea. “It was nice to meet you, too. I look forward to getting to know you better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” Sam says, walking towards the door. “Oh, remind me to tell you about the picture of you Dean stole out of my yearbook,” Sam adds, making Castiel huff a laugh. “Later, Cas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, it is definitely odd to have somebody else call him Cas, but he thinks it’s something he can get used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even twenty minutes later, the bell jingles again, and this time, it’s who he was hoping to see all along. Dean comes walking in like he owns the place, two coffees in hand, and a smile firmly in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anybody here?” Dean asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, because you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>smokin’ hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> today and it would be a shame if I couldn’t say it out loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel smiles fondly, knowing that Dean’s idea of smoking hot has a lot to do with the suspenders he’s currently wearing. “C’mere.” Dean leans across the counter and licks his lips, so Castiel meets him halfway for a quick kiss hello. “Guess what?” Dean says as they break apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam’s here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean says it with a smile so big Castiel feels bad for bursting his bubble. “I know, he stopped by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean only looks crestfallen for a second before he shakes his head with clear exasperation. “I guess the good news is you’ve met all of my family now, so no more of them should be coming in here to spy on you.” Castiel laughs a little, and Dean says, “Seriously. I know</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t have any manners, but I expected better from Jo and Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind,” Castiel says honestly. “Actually, it was kind of nice to get to show off some of my work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Dean asks, instantly interested. “What’d you show him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Impala.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes go a little wide. “You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He asked, and I didn’t see why not. He said he’s been asking you for pictures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did,” Dean confirms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never mentioned it,” Castiel says. Then, being careful not to sound accusatory, he adds, “You haven’t asked me about it in a while, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean bobs his head, and Castiel watches with interest when Dean rubs at the back of his neck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean’s nervous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Guess it slipped my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to see it? It’s finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Nah, it’s okay. We don’t have to do that today,” Dean says. “Hey, did Sam mention the three of us hanging out tonight? I thought maybe we could order in, give you and Sam a chance to get to know each other a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t mention that, no.” He waits a second, trying to decide if he wants to push or let it go, and decides on the former. “He did mention how weird it was that you haven’t been asking about the Impala, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Dean says dismissively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean.” Castiel puts as much patience and understanding into his voice as he possibly can when he continues, “If you’ve decided you don’t want the car anymore, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want it?” Dean echoes. “Of course I want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you concerned about the price?” Castiel wonders. “You’re the first one who’s had the pleasure, but I’m fairly certain sleeping with the store owner should get you a discount of some sort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, no,” Dean says quickly. “I don’t want a discount. I want to pay full price, the same as you would have charged anybody else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That will be difficult to determine since I likely wouldn’t have offered to find a specific toy for anybody but you,” Castiel admits for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel shrugs. “I only did it because you asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody’s ever asked for your help to find something before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they have. They’re just not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean smiles at that. “So you were hot for me from the beginning, huh? Don’t be embarrassed — it was mutual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he lets some of his impatience show. “Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean breathes in nice and deep, then tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “This is going to sound stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Considering you are as far from stupid as I can imagine, I don’t think that’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prepare to be disappointed,” Dean says under his breath. Then he huffs another big sigh and looks at Castiel. “I guess I thought if I didn’t close out my order or whatever, I’d always have to come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel frowns, not fully following. “I don’t understand. You know you don’t have to come here, right? I enjoy whenever you stop by, but it isn’t mandatory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know that,” Dean says. “That’s not what I mean.” Castiel still doesn’t know what Dean’s getting at, so he waits him out. “Let’s just assume that at some point I do or say something to fuck this up between us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, Dean’s been such an attentive boyfriend that Castiel finds that possibility hard to come to terms with, but Dean certainly has more experience with relationships than he does, so he goes with it. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a big blow-up fight about something stupid, I get pissed off and storm out, and that’s it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels like he’s still missing an important piece of information here, but he continues to go along with it. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might not’ve seen this side of me yet, but I’m a stubborn son of a bitch, Cas. When I get it in my head that I’m right, I won’t back down, and I’ve fucked up more relationships that way than I like to think about. I already know I’m gonna be stretched paper thin the next little while with opening Winchester’s, and so I figure it won’t be long before I’m a dick about something stupid, we fight, and there goes the best thing that ever happened to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, run this by me one more time,” Castiel says. “We fight, you get mad and storm off, and then I’m not ever supposed to contact you again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugs. “Not like it’s never happened to me before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad we had this little talk. Otherwise I would’ve just made a fool out of myself for not knowing how these things work, and I definitely would have tried calling you after giving you time to cool off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean seems surprised by that. “You would?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if I was an asshole?” Dean checks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you were an asshole,” Castiel confirms. “But now I know I’m not supposed to do that, so I’ll be able to just let the best thing that ever happened to me walk away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s where the Impala comes in,” Dean says, snapping his fingers excitedly. Apparently, Castiel’s sarcasm has gone right over Dean’s head. “I wanted to leave myself a fail-safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A fail-safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean exclaims. “If I leave it here unpaid, then when I fuck shit up between us, I have a solid excuse to come back here with my tail between my legs, secretly hoping that seeing you again will be enough to get my head outta my ass and tell you that I miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was right — that’s one of the stupidest things he’s ever heard, but it’s also the sweetest, most thoughtfully convoluted back-up plan he could have dreamed up. Just knowing that he means so much to Dean already makes his heart soar, and although he’s had his suspicions for a week or so, he’s absolutely sure now that he knows the name for this warm mass inside his chest he has whenever he’s around Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s gone and fallen in love with him, as foolish as that may be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They say love makes you crazy, and Castiel seems to be experiencing that first-hand for the first time in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That might be the sweetest, most outlandish thing anybody has ever done for me,” Castiel says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean has remained remarkably cool through all of this, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what makes him start blushing. “You, uh, don’t think it’s stupid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the logic is sound,” Castiel settles on. “I wonder if we could swap the Impala out for something else, though? Because I’m really quite proud of the work I did on it, and I would love to see it finish your father’s collection the way you originally intended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyebrows knit together as he thinks. “I don’t really have anything else I know I’d come back for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I give you something?” Castiel asks, his mind working quickly to solve their problem. “Something I’m going to need back regardless of how our relationship may come to an end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel smiles and ducks behind the counter. He pulls out a small wooden box that’s been back here since his dad passed away, and opens it to reveal a beaten up old ring. “This was my dad’s,” Castiel says, removing it from the box and placing it in the palm of his hand. “It has very little monetary value, but it’s priceless when it comes to sentiment. If I give this to you to hang on to, I’m going to need it back if we go our separate ways. I need you to promise me, no matter what, you’ll return it to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-are you sure?” Dean stumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s throat clicks, but he nods. “Yeah. I’ll take it as long as you’re absolutely sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Castiel says steadily. He holds his hand out, and Dean takes the ring with such care that Castiel knows immediately that he made the right decision. Dean won’t let anything happen to Castiel’s dad’s ring. He’s sure of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tucks the ring into his breast pocket on his canvas jacket and rests his hand over it for a moment. “Thanks, Cas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very welcome. Now, let me show you how amazingly talented your boyfriend is with a paintbrush.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel and Dean have been together for almost a year now, and it hasn’t always been as easy as it was when they first met. Ever since Dean opened Winchester Motion, the demands for Dean’s time, energy, and body have increased exponentially. Dean’s practice may have only been a couple of doors down from Castiel’s store, but random drop-ins with coffee quickly became a thing of the past, and Dean was oftentimes so tired after a full day of working on client after client that weeknight dates were pretty non-existent most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dean was always there when Castiel closed the shop on Friday nights, waiting eagerly for Castiel to lock up and lead the way upstairs so they could begin their weekend together. Dean was great about keeping work and home separate, so although Castiel heard the occasional story about something Dean and Donna were talking about, Dean never complained about work, about the clients, or about how hard he knows Dean works during the week. He gives 100% of his attention to Castiel Friday night, Saturday, and all day Sunday, and every single time they parted ways late Sunday night, Castiel mentally braced himself for another week without the man he loves by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having such a perfect relationship three days a week is great, but he wants more than that, which is why Castiel’s going to ask Dean how he feels about them living together tonight. He doesn’t care if they live in the small apartment he has over the Antique Toy Shop, in Dean’s dad’s house, or someplace new for both of them. He just wants to be involved in Dean’s life seven days of the week instead of three. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean wants the same thing. He’s said as much on countless Sunday nights when they stand at the door with their arms wrapped around each other, lamenting about how they don’t want the weekend to end. Hopefully that’s not just something Dean said without meaning, otherwise Castiel’s proposition tonight is going to make things all kinds of awkward between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re out for dinner at the same place they went to on their very first date, and even though it makes him nervous to have the conversation they need to have in public when so many people in this town are highly invested in their relationship, the positive side is that Dean’s much less likely to cause a scene if Castiel is way, way off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Dean’s hand hasn’t left his since they got here combined with the affectionate way Dean keeps staring at him leads him to believe he’s on the right track for what they both want out of their relationship, he just has to find a good opening to bring it up. The right moment presents itself when Dean suddenly asks, “I keep meaning to ask you, did I leave my knee brace at your place last weekend?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The weekend before, I think,” Castiel says. “I found it on the floor in the living room. I think you took it off when we failed to make it all the way through Episode Seven without distractions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quirk to Dean’s lips lets him know Dean remembers exactly why he took his brace off (kneeling doesn’t work with it on, they’ve learned), and that’s proven when Dean says, “I still say you were wearing that sweater with the elbow patches on purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s neither here nor there.” The truth is, it was a complete coincidence, but he isn’t the least bit sorry for getting Dean so worked up that he gave the blow job of a lifetime. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the inconvenience of having our belongings strewn between both of our houses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any and all traces of humor leave Dean’s expression in an instant. “You... have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel nods. “It’s frustrating not knowing if I can’t find my glasses because I put them down someplace stupid I just can’t see without them on my face or if I’ve left them at your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gotta get you a second pair,” Dean says, obviously trying for a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or one less place to live,” Castiel says carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he’s watching Dean for any hint he may give about how he feels about this, he notices Dean’s throat working to swallow around nothing. “I, uh, think I know where you’re goin’ with this, Cas, and I’m not saying no. I’m just saying... not right this second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Wow, that hurt quite a bit more than he was expecting. “Okay,” Castiel manages. His voice is tight and came out sounding all wrong, and he knows Dean’s going to hear it and realize that Castiel’s not as okay as he thought he might be if Dean turned him down, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. Not now that his eyes are filling and there’s a hollow space in his chest where his heart used to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” Dean says, prompting him to look at him with the tone of his voice. “I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I haven’t said no to you since the day we met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel nods and looks back at the table, willing his tears away before they spill over. They haven’t even been together for a year yet. Maybe he is pushing for too much too fast. He never really thought Dean would say no, but he did tell himself that he could be okay with it if Dean did, as long as he’s willing to carve some time out for him during the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk about this,” Dean says, once again pulling Castiel’s attention back to him. “Just not here, okay? I love you, and I want to be with you and only you for as long as you’re willing to put up with me.” Castiel nods, appreciating the way Dean is reassuring him when so many doubts have clouded his head all at once. “You trust me, right?” Castiel nods again without thinking. Of course he trusts Dean. He loves him. “Then believe me when I tell you this night is going to end even better than you thought.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering Castiel thought they would end the night debating where they’re going to live, he isn’t as sure about that as Dean seems to sound, but as Dean had so cleverly reminded him only a few seconds ago, he trusts Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to enjoy the rest of your dinner, okay? We’ll get dessert to go this time,” Dean suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel nods again, and although his stomach is doing all kinds of weird things, Dean’s thumb moving back and forth over the back of his hand is a comforting reminder that Dean is still here and clearly still cares about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean carries on most of the conversation after that, and although Castiel’s mind is still spinning, it’s always been easy talking to Dean, so he finds himself drawn into several amusing anecdotes about Dean’s day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they’ve finished their meal and Dean’s covered the tab, Castiel’s stomach has tied itself back up into knots. Dean leads him out to the Impala and opens the passenger door for him the way Dean always does, and then Dean gets in behind the wheel. Castiel is expecting Dean to take him back to his place, but Dean drives past the turn for both of their houses and winds up on a dirt road Castiel has only been on one other time before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at Dean curiously now that he knows where they’re headed, but Dean just reaches over to squeeze his hand. “Thought it’d be a nice place to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t imagine Dean bringing him to their spot just to break up with him or let him down gently, and so the majority of his worries disappear as they drive through the trees and stars come into view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean parks near the edge of the cliff the same way he did the last time they came here, and because it’s just as cold today as it was back then, he’s not at all surprised when Dean produces a thick blanket and gets onto the hood of the Impala. “Thought we’d start with the good stuff,” Dean says, settling the blanket over them both before wrapping his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re trying to lure me into a false sense of security before you dump me, you’re doing a remarkable job,” Castiel jokes, leaning his weight into Dean’s side and dropping his head onto Dean’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean laughs and pulls Castiel against him more firmly, then leans over to press a kiss to his temple. “I don’t want to dump you,” Dean says, his mocking tone of voice very clearly laughing at the very idea. “We’ve always been pretty good at being on the same page, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have,” Castiel says carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right from the beginning, you wanted to ask me out and I wanted to ask you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the beginning,” Castiel reminds him. “Your crush on me in high school rivaled mine on you by a long shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because you didn’t know I existed,” Dean counters. “But as soon as I walked into your store, you were into me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was distracted by your face,” Castiel confirms. “And then charmed by your personality soon after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never saw you coming,” Dean says. “I wasn’t even looking for a relationship. I knew things would be crazy with Winchester’s and I wouldn’t have the kind of time to devote to a new relationship, but then we went on our first date and I was a goner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you keep saying,” Castiel says fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s arm leaves Castiel’s shoulder so Dean can dig into his pocket and bring his phone up between them. “I’ve got proof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never delete my text threads, you know that. It took me a while to remember the exact words I used to text Sam that night, but I found them. Look.” Castiel looks at Dean’s phone while he opens his texts and awkwardly types </span>
  <em>
    <span>best date</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the search box. A message thread comes up with Sam, and after a few more clicks, Castiel looks down at a message sent from Dean to Sam with the words, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just had the best date of my life.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean points below it to the next message he sent which says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Think this might be something really good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “See?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel smiles over at him. “I do. That’s incredibly sweet of you to show me, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam thought I was losing it,” Dean chuckles. “He knew I didn’t want to get into anything serious, and then I went on three dates with you and fell in love in a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although it took you much longer to say so out loud,” Castiel teases gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t want to send you running,” Dean explains. “I’ve got the exact date I knew I was in over my head here, too, because I called Sam freaking out about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel laughs a little as Dean brings up his call log on his screen, once again tapping awkwardly with his one finger. “Ah yes, that infamous phone call. He mentioned it a few months later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That little shit,” Dean curses. “This is it, right here.” Castiel looks down and sees the Saturday morning phone call to Sam, then puts two and two together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realized you were in love with me after spending the night, freaked out to Sam, and then came back for the rest of the weekend?” Castiel asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worked out well, too, since that’s the night you seduced me for the first time.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel can’t help but laugh at that. “If I remember correctly, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> who was whispering not-so-sweet nothings into my ear that night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not my fault you make it difficult to think with my brain,” Dean says, leaning in to kiss him quickly. “I really love you.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really love you, too,” Castiel says fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That first week was probably the best week we ever had. I didn’t have anything else to worry about except for you, and I did everything I could to make that week special. I made sure to let you know how much I cared about you, how much I respected you, and how perfect I thought you were, and in the back of my mind, I kept telling myself that even if we didn’t end up together, at least I’d live the rest of my life knowing I did everything I could to give you a good example of the way you deserve to be treated.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s heart breaks a little for Dean ever thinking that way about them. “Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it sounds kinda messed up, but it made me feel better. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep up a relationship while I was trying to get my business off the ground, but I loved you so much so fast, I couldn’t make myself walk away. I still didn’t really think it would last, and it probably wouldn’t have if you weren’t so fucking patient. You never bitched when I was too exhausted to leave my house and never said a word about having a weekend only boyfriend, and it made me want to keep making every weekend I got with you really count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did,” Castiel tells him. “You still do. You’re doing it right now,” Castiel points out, looking back up at the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing is, Cas... I don’t think I can do that anymore.” Castiel’s heart sinks so fast it rips a sharp breath from his lungs. “I want more than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking rapidly, Castiel tries to make sure his ears and brain are on the same page even though his heart has completely left the vicinity. “You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to have to make the weekends count anymore. I want every day to count, and I know without a doubt in my mind that the only way that's going to happen for me is if I spend them all with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel is smiling so big right now he wouldn’t be surprised if his face cracked right in two. “So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to move in together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean shakes his head, and now Castiel is really, really confused. Before he can try to make any kind of sense out of whatever Dean’s trying to say, Dean says, “I want you to marry me.” Dean turns the hand over he’s been using to type with and uncurls his fingers, revealing a familiar beaten up silver ring in the palm of his hand. Castiel’s breath catches, he covers his mouth with his hand, and looks up at Dean. “I don’t need a fail-safe anymore. I love you, Cas. There’s a chance I might’ve loved you before you even knew I existed, but I’m absolutely sure I’m going to love you every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears are streaming down Castiel’s face, but before he says yes, he needs a second to ask a question of his own. He wipes his face and tries to pretend like he’s not about to </span>
  <em>
    <span>explode</span>
  </em>
  <span> with happiness long enough to say, “Only if we move in together before we get married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll move in together tomorrow,” Dean promises. “And I can get a different ring if you don’t want to wear this one. I just thought—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My answer is yes,” Castiel breathes, smiling ear-to-ear now. “Yes, Dean. I’ll marry you. And I don’t want another ring. I just want you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean beams at him, smiling so big it’s like he won the lottery, and Castiel is so excited he doesn’t even think, he just throws himself directly into Dean’s arms. All he wants is to be close to Dean, to feel Dean’s arms come around him and squeeze him tight, but what he gets is an exasperated-sounding, “Cas!” before Dean is pushing him away and scrambling off the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Dean drops to his knees and starts searching frantically, Castiel knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry,” Castiel sighs, sliding off the car to help Dean look for the ring he must have knocked out of Dean’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never a dull moment with you,” Dean says. Castiel marvels at the fact that even now, after Castiel has all but ruined Dean’s proposal and they’re looking through grass and dirt on their hands and knees outside in the freezing cold, Dean speaks to him with so much fondness. “Found it!” Dean announces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank god.” Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, then sits back on his feet. Leave it to him to almost lose the most valuable thing he has and knock Dean’s entire proposal out of whack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I’m actually on one knee,” Dean says, holding the ring out a second time. “See? You made it perfect just by being you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel has never loved Dean more than he loves him right this second. “You are entirely too smooth to be the man I fell in love with,” Castiel realizes suddenly. “What happened to the nervous babbling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t nervous,” Dean says simply. He takes Castiel’s hand, slips the band onto Castiel’s finger, and lifts his green eyes to meet Castiel’s. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel has to hand it to Dean. He was right earlier when he said they’re always on the same page, because Castiel feels precisely the same way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he knows he always will. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that wraps up another story!</p><p>I am perpetually behind on responding to comments (sorry!), but you can almost always get a response from me on <a href="https://twitter.com/tricia_16fanfic">Twitter!</a> </p><p>I'm already working on my next story, which is going to be another omegaverse fic, so I'm sure it won't be long before you hear from me again.</p><p>Thank you for all of your love and support &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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